The Sacred Q'e of Q'a'ta'Orbin (Magnificent Obsession Series: 4)
by KayCee1951
Summary: Why the invaders had come pockmarked Q'a'ta'Orbin. Why they had left? That was a question begging an answer. But knowing the answer would not bring back what had been lost. The ingredients were still there but the recipe was gone. See my profile for story order
1. Teacup in a Tempest

_**A/N:**__ Chapter One of this story was originally imagined, in its infancy, as a Round Robin published on Ad Astra in 2010 with a third chapter contributed by Samuel G. Pengraff (penname). Since original publication, the story has been expanded and Chapter One and Two re-written to support additional chapters. Sam's original Chapter Three remains intact, with only minor changes to date and/or time references. His contribution provided both the direction and the jumping off point for me to write the rest of the story. I have added a Prologue as well that was not part of the original Round Robin challenge._

_This journey for our beloved Star Trek characters, which I do not own and have tried as much as possible to keep within canon, is installment #4 in the Magnificent Obsession Series. In order to fill in the background and give context to this story, read the other installments (0, 1, 2, 2a, 3, 3a, 5 and 6). #4a was written in 2011 as an "It's A Wonderful Life" challenge and is included only as a teaser for The Sacred Q'e._

_I have added my own characters, as well as one character, Allie Gyers, which I borrowed, with her permission, from my granddaughter._

* * *

**The Sacred Q'e of Q'a'ta'Orbin**

By KayCee1951

_**Prologue:**_

An illusory tranquility embraced the moments before dawn. In the tween-light, a thriving planet, its natural course unaltered by the long reach of an alien hand, could be imagined. In the full light of its sun, however, the planet's surface evidenced a brutal reality.

The terraced hillsides that surrounded Lake A'bn offered a point high enough above the planet's largest natural reservoir and the island at its center to elude the stench of burning animal flesh. One could hardly escape the irony that the assault on the olfactory system was proof of life – a welcome replacement for the smell of death that had lingered for months after the arrival of the initial medical teams – or the sickening miasma of hundreds of thousands of crematory fires to halt the spread of disease.

Why the invaders had come pockmarked Q'a'ta'Orbin. Why they had left? That was a question begging an answer. But knowing the answer would not bring back what had been lost. The ingredients were still there but the recipe was gone. The Romulan occupation had inflicted a more devastating blow to the planet than could be understood by numbers and statistics – even more than that delivered by the pandemic that had followed.

The Torbin had been ripped out of their own technological development and into another's. The developing Torbin cities had been negated to the point of ruin. What was left stood now as grim, silent reminders that taking over a planet requires invasion before it has developed the means to mount any technological defense and then obliterating its cultural identity so that it cannot mount any organized offense.

The Torbin population had been whittled down on a hundred-year trail of tears that had fractured, if not decimated, thousands of years of burgeoning culture, with histories redacted, families separated, and lineages wiped out altogether. Little effort had been necessary on the part of the invaders. Constant periods of upheaval, disparity, famine and attrition had done the job nicely.

Descendants of those who had escaped subjugation, or had waged a guerilla war with what amounted to teaspoons against an invading ocean, now inhabited the only fertile ground left on the planet. Those that had escaped both the ravages of the occupation and the pandemic now inhabited the most sacred, and the only unscarred, region of the planet. With its perpetual collar of fog around the base of its volcanic peaks, the region the Survivors called the Shroud had once been both revered and feared. Now, it was also forbidden.

The rim, the plain to the west, and what was left of their species were the blocks left on which the Torbin could build a future. The remaining population was only now beginning to show confirmed signs that recovery was even possible. The Torbin could not afford to lose another man, woman, or child.

The terraced hills around Lake Ab'n were already becoming crowded with Survivors who were forced together in the summer in a mish-mosh of different cultures, dialects and grievances. Two things kept them from warring with each other, their mutual need and their mutual hatred of those who had escaped the carnage.

Within a week, the summer rains would cool this last habitable region of the planet and flood the lowlands. The fishing villages had already deconstructed their winter dwellings and were on the move to higher ground around the hills under the rim. The firelights on the island would soon disappear into the hills closer to the Shroud. The rising lake would further separate the Torbin, matching geographically the chasm between the Survivors and the Edgers.

And the Q'e.

_**Chapter One: Teacup in a tempest  
2291**_

The waning light of the few stars that could still be seen at zenith peeked between smoky-grey, swollen clouds. A few dots of morning firelight escaped the darkness.

Day would break soon.

A blast of refreshing air rose up from the valley floor and blew a swatch of brownish hair across her face. It whipped the ties of her camisole over her arms and pushed the peasant skirt against her body with such force that the fabric took the shape of her legs. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the wind receded and the air was stifling again. She braced herself against the next blow she knew was coming.

Blasting her again, the updraft temporarily cooled the beads of salty sweat that pricked at the fresh cut above her left eyebrow. Sticky air glued itself to her skin and she was beginning to present with minor symptoms of oxygen deprivation.

Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine a hot-August night in the delta, standing watch on the widow's walk of Ducheaux House, her childhood home. She smiled at the thought. The house was antebellum, a short walk from the Old Muddy, smelled of age in the summer, and was in a constant state of renovation to update the facilities while preserving its historical significance. She had studied its history and was still impressed that it had survived five hundred years of war, natural disaster, global warming, periods of destructive neglect, and more war. All it had ever needed was someone to recognize its importance and care for it.

'Studying one's history and remembering it are not the same.' Sarek's words haunted her more than any others these days – and the competition was getting tough.

Her forehead began to sting again. She would need to treat it before she and Leeza started the day. Bits of sunlight began to dance over the east rim, casting ragged strips of light and shadow over parts of the valley, and the activity level around her was increasing.

She joined the queue that had come up from the lakeside and assumed half the load from an overburdened man approximately in his sixties, an extreme age among the Torbin. When she had deposited the man and the load at his summer dwelling, she made her way further up the hill and headed for the barracks.

As she crested the rim, the vista offered a gathering of cumulonimbus clouds portending the storm that was building in the east and the already dense sand storm covering most of the plain in the west. The perpetual wind on the flat mesa was gusting up to 32 kmph and picking up speed.

"Doctor C," Nurse Lieutenant Leeza Bridges' voice called from the gun-metal building behind her, "Doctor Gyers is on the comm."

Before the need to fend off another gust, Christine Chapel turned to assure her nurse that she had heard and would take the call.

As soon as she sat down at the console, Leeza shoved, with a measure of authority, an oxygen mask into her hands. She took a few drags and then set it aside. She had barely engaged the view-screen when Allie Gyers noticed the blood-crusted gash on her forehead.

"Do you go looking for trouble," Allie asked, "or does it just follow you around like a rougarou?"

"I go looking for it, of course."

"I sincerely hope you come up with something better before Abel catches up with you. He's fit to be tied that you're not returning his communications, and that," Allie said pointing to the new brow decoration, "is not going to win you any brownie points. You're already dangerously close to your safety threshold."

"I still have a few things to wrap up here before I come back and plenty of oxygen on hand to supplement."

"I know Seren can be a pain in the ass, but he seems to be genuinely concerned. If you delay therapy much longer, your next travel destination will be Starbase XX or permanent residence on Earth."

"I will not go critical. I promise."

Allie bit on her lower lip. "You know, sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass too."

* * *

After closing the comm., Christine left the barracks anteroom and collected Leeza Bridges, who had disappeared into the belly of the Romulan-built beast. The CERI team maintained the first building as a field base with separate sterile environment stocked with medical supplies. The structure was also stocked with supplies and facilities necessary for CERI personnel to spend extended stays in the field. However, there were few, make that less than few, other twenty third century amenities available at the barracks. The place was frequented by CERI personnel only when absolutely necessary. With their numbers dwindling, the relief team needed all hands on deck, so it was regularly manned by a single medical technician and required little to no security. The enmity the Survivors had for the alien structure that represented the enemy was eclipsed only by that which they held for Edgers. For the most part, it kept the curious away.

Leeza made no comment while treating, sealing, then bandaging her cut with what would be acceptable to display while interacting with Survivors.

Due mostly to Allie Gyers and her grad students, the team employed the treasure trove of archeological finds for the visible trappings to evidence medical care. They had scoured the planet's wastelands to find the bits of medical contrivances that littered the non-sterile area of the building. What had been reconstructed, repurposed or tinkered to represent the level of medical knowledge and technology at the time of the invasion was a mixture of painstaking search, intuitive reasoning, and imaginative guesswork.

While she held the ragged fabric bandage down with her right hand, Leeza wrapped a thin band of clean fabric around her head and tied it under her braid at the back. The bandage, which made her look like a soldier from the American Revolution, would have to remain for the duration until her return trip to base, while the actual wound treatment and cover would heal the cut in a matter of hours. Abel would never see it, but he would know about it.

While she changed clothes in the lavatory, Leeza consulted a clipboard, instead of a padd as the trappings of twenty third century technology were avoided whenever possible. She began to rattle off the day's agenda, changes thereto, interferences thereof, and general bits of new information that had accumulated overnight.

"Shaman O'brn will be at the agrarian village clinic today," Leeza continued her recitation and flipped two or three pages over the top of the clipboard. "Doctor Orax, and Nurses Kaleen and Baker will be making rounds to agrarian and nomad villages. Everyone else will be scattered hither and yon just helping out wherever they're needed. The clinic reassembly for the villagers coming up from the lake is almost complete. I can meet you there in a few hours. First I need to go to the main clinic to meet a couple of Survivor volunteers for the nurse trainee program that are supposed to show up this morning." Leeza took a breath.

"Did you get any sleep?" Christine took the opportunity to ask.

"About four hours. You?" Leeza said.

"Five and a half. I win."

Leeza smiled to herself, then marched on. "Oh, and the plumbing is on the fritz again."

After dressing appropriately to the tone of today's schedule, camisole top, soft leggings and light cloth boots, she entered the treatment room to find Leeza had already re-packed her bag.

"I noticed. See if one of the techs can get up here later to get some running water for the next rotation."

Leeza set the backpack aside and handed her the O2 mask again, saying, "Will do," and asked, "Do you want to talk to Renn now or later?"

"I'll deal with Mr. Renn when we return to base."

Although nodding understanding, Leeza still looked hesitant, as if she had more on her mind.

"Something else bothering you, Leeza?" she asked. Her voice was muffled by the breathing apparatus.

"Doctor Seren is threatening to bring you in himself if you don't return within the next few hours, even if he has to use a hypo-spray and restraints. Although," she paused, "I sensed he would be willing to forgo the hypo-spray."

"Duly noted and appropriately prioritized."

Handing her the clipboard and suppressing a smile, Leeza left her to finish the breathing therapy and said, "If the volunteers are a no-show like the last time, I'll see you sooner rather than later."

* * *

The base for the Cooperative Emergency Relief Initiative (CERI) was located deep within the cavernous belly of Mount Z'dn that overlooked the lake valley.

The puffing crater on its top, the volcanic sediment down its steep slope, and crumbling ancient architecture secreted the entrance to twenty third century laboratories, medical facilities and living quarters on a planet that, prior to the Romulan invasion, had barely been on the verge of industrial revolution.

Doctor Abel Seren's face appeared on the viewscreen of the hyperbaric chamber where Christine had been for an hour since her return from the field. Her view of his compact office showed a framed mission statement, the only evidence of her former occupancy, still leaned against the wall on the shelf behind the desk_._ Otherwise, the office space and walls were bare but for a desk and a few chairs. He had replaced her as director of the relief mission but had added nothing personal to the space.

"I was getting ready to let the dogs out," Abel said.

"I checked in twice a day," she said.

"Until two days ago. Not something you would have tolerated in my position," he said, waiting for a sign of protest. When it did not come he wasn't above taking advantage of her weakened physical state.

"This is the second time we've had to patch you up because you got in the middle of some skirmish between the locals," Abel said.

"Healthy interaction. The Torbin," she said, stressing the proper reference to the indigenous sentient species, "are finally beginning to emerge from their unanimous depression and feel something again."

"Stow the bullshit aphorisms, Christine. My concern at the moment is not for the social health of the Torbin but for our mutual futures. If you die in one of those healthy interactions, or from pure stubbornness, I'm the one who'll have to explain it to the high mucky mucks at Starfleet Command."

Abel's lack of empathy had been a constant source of tension between them when they had served together on the Ruby G. Little had changed.

"I'm not trying to die on Q'a'ta'Orbin," she said, ignoring the implication that she was reckless.

"Aren't you?" he said. There was no humor in his voice or his expression. "I've scheduled you in the chamber for at least nine more hours and eight hours tomorrow."

"I don't need more than one eight hour session."

"Eighteen hours over the next two days and not a nanosecond less. Non-negotiable. Care to make it twenty four hours over the next three days?"

"Can I at least take a break for a shower?"

When she had returned to base, Abel had not allowed her to clean up before she was herded into therapy. Her hair was still wind-blown from traveling in the open tramcar and bits of mud that had dried to a green ochre clung to her legs and sandals.

"You're pushing it," he said.

She waited.

"In another hour you can have fifteen minutes to clean up. If you can fit a shower into that, then you have my blessing."

Without responding, she folded her arms across her chest and dragged a heavy breath. It hurt.

"I want to talk about Renn." She had left the topic of concerns about personal hygiene and accusations of blatant disregard for her own safety and had returned to stewing over her former assistant's behavior while she had been in the field.

"Let it go," he said, "Renn's young. By Coridan standards, he's not much more than a boy. Surely you took that into consideration when you recruited him for this gambit. And stop talking, it's only going to keep you in there longer."

He held a stylus in one hand and picked up his padd from the desk with the other. Tall and swarthy with a healthy muscle mass, Abel Seren would have been the embodiment of a classic fictional hero if not for the 'something you can't quite put your finger on' expression in his eyes.

"Young?" she said, shaking her head. "I don't know what the hell possessed him to act out the way he has, but there is no excuse for it. Even by Coridan standards."

Abel expelled a defeated breath. "I was hoping to talk to you about Renn before you heard it by the ever-present 'let's undermine Seren' grapevine. But since you were taking everyone's calls but mine, I realize once again that was a fantasy I should not have entertained. Anyway, it's moot now."

Abel's departure from the professional had increased of late and he had begun to verbalize his frustrations in ways that were more worrisome than irritating.

"You want him to remain as your assistant?" she asked.

"You've said it yourself. You couldn't have done this job without him. And regardless of his animosity toward me, I'll not be able to do what I have to do without him. We came to an understanding this morning. So, please, say nothing to him about this. My job now. Let me handle it."

"And Teacup?"

Abel tapped the padd as if continuing the entry meant overcoming physical pain. Even casual reference to T'kp could rapidly deteriorate into an argument from which he rarely emerged unscathed.

"The child disappeared three months ago."

"It's a simple question!" The effort to exclaim caused a sharp pain in her chest and she winced.

"I'll do what needs to be done," he said, then scribbled a few words on the padd and ended the connection.

* * *

To keep her mind occupied, or rather distracted, Christine had chosen for her first musical selection a symphony by a little known Altairian composer played entirely by wind instruments that resembled enormous alphorns and tiny piccolos.

The cacophony filling the chamber would normally have evoked a screaming "Next" but for some reason, it calmed her and it certainly improved her mood, as long as she resisted the occasional chortle at the ridiculous noise that caused her physical pain.

After being in-chamber, although Allie referred to it as being tanked, for about an hour after she had taken a sponge bath and changed her clothes, she was perturbed when Abel's voice invaded what inner calm, after she had switched to a musical mix more conducive to calm, she had finally been able to manage.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she asked.

"Yes, as should you."

"I was attempting to meditate."

"I was awakened by a sub-space communication." Abel said. "I thought you'd want to know that we're going to have visitors sooner than expected."

"The supply ship's arriving early?" she said.

"It's not arriving at all. The Inspector General's office sent a starship instead, constitution class. They just dropped out of warp and will be in orbit within the hour."

The realization only took a few seconds to set in. Gripped by immediate apprehension and a warp speed accounting of all that it represented, she whispered, "Enterprise."

Abel neither confirmed nor denied. That would have required him to loosen his jaw and unclench his teeth.

* * *

A/N: Q'a'ta'Orbin is pronounced Kah-tah-orbin and Q'e is pronounced 'key'

And for anyone who did not Google it, a 'rougarou' (pronounced 'roo-gah-roo') is Louisiana's werewolf legend - with its origins in medieval France


	2. Shadows of the Past

_**Chapter Two: Shadows of the past**_

Hovering in a geo-synchronous orbit above Q'a'ta'Orbin, the cargo bay of _U.S.S._ _Enterprise_ was alive with activity focused on preparations for offloading of supplies and equipment.

"Captain Scott, don't you think they're carrying this a bit too far? I mean, Starfleet's decontamination procedures are state of the art. Not even the smallest microbe could survive it," the young engineer shadowing the _Enterprise's_ chief engineer said, and then muttered, "As if we've never done this before."

The next words were out of McCoy's mouth before Scotty could even open his.

"There are only a fraction of the original inhabitants left on the planet because of alien microbes – think extinction level event, son! The misery and death the team had to deal with in the first month was enough to make triage veterans weep like little babies, let alone still wet-behind-the-ears-ensigns."

Ensign Roberto Vasquez stood stunned, the sterilization probe he was holding dangled awkwardly towards the deck. It was not the one word answer he was expecting.

Scotty stepped forward, not wanting his newest engineer to suffer too long.

"So, nae, Ensign, we do na' think they're being too cautious with the decon."

Spock, who had been monitoring the process, interceded. "I suggest we dispense with the debate over the decontamination procedures and proceed with them."

"We'll see everything comes off without a hitch," Scotty said, casting a scolding, but fatherly, glance at his young protégé and a disapproving one in McCoy's direction.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," Spock said, then made the Vulcan equivalent of a beeline for the cargo bay door.

McCoy followed, close on Spock's heels, double-timing his steps to catch up, determined that he would not make the trip to the main shuttle bay alone. He caught up just in time to duck into the turbo lift as the doors closed.

Spock's failed attempt to hide his annoyance only served, as Jim would say, to 'poke the bear.'

"Damn shame about Christine," McCoy said.

When no comment came from Spock, McCoy prodded him again, his jaw tight, "I said, damn…"

"My hearing is not impaired, Doctor. I am merely attempting to construct a response in a manner appropriate to a statement of the obvious," Spock droned and came very close to a sigh while keeping his eyes fixed on the doors as if he was willing them to open.

"Forget it," McCoy, said, then grumbled something incoherent, and likely derogatory, under his breath. He shot out of the turbo lift as soon as the doors swooshed apart and found Jim Kirk waiting for them in the corridor. The doctor stopped only for the second it took to say, "You ready for this?"

Without waiting for an answer, McCoy made the distance to the shuttle bay access doors just as Spock reached Kirk's side.

"He's not taking this well," Kirk said to Spock.

"While Doctor McCoy has made no secret of his attempts to convince Doctor Chapel to leave Q'a'ta'Orbin," Spock said as McCoy disappeared into the bay, "he is simultaneously distressed about the circumstances under which she may be forced to make a premature departure."

"If you understand that much, do you think maybe you could cut him some slack, just this once?"

"I _am_ doing my best. However, I do not understand why he believes I should engage in the same hand wringing activity."

* * *

The cargo bound for the CERI base was transferred to the surface through a different route than personnel. The corridor through which the three cargo craft entered the planet's atmosphere provided their pilots with a snapshot of devastation they'd seen all too often in their careers and on too many other planets.

Four shuttlecraft would be dispatched from _Enterprise_, three of them personnel transport craft with thirty souls each.

The first to depart, smaller and sleeker than the bulky transports, would shuttle Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, Captain Scott and Commander Uhura as well as two Inspectors General and their entourage.

Spock would be making the journey on the last of the three larger shuttlecraft that would deliver the eighty six other Enterprise personnel to the planet through the relay station.

When Scotty arrived with the Inspectors General in tow, Kirk flashed a smile he usually reserved for bureaucratic types.

"Ah! Inspector Maalouf. Inspector Tark. How nice of you to join us."

Inspector Tark was Tellerite. Kirk's narrowly disguised disdain rolled off him as if it was a symbol of pride in his ability to rub people the wrong way, especially Humans, and particularly Starfleet officers. His robust frame and the acoustics in the shuttle bay added an extra boost to his booming voice. He was difficult to ignore if for nothing else than he could be heard above the ship's engines if standing right next to them. And he used it to his advantage.

Assistant Inspector General Shani Maalouf was a Human of diminutive stature. She also was difficult to ignore. She gave the impression of a cobra, biding its time until ready to strike and smiled as if Kirk's deportment validated the very reason she had insisted on making this particular inspection tour in person. Captain Kirk, in spite of his forced effort to be diplomatic, had made himself clear enough to her on the day she boarded the ship ten days before. He didn't like her.

"Well," Kirk said, motioning for the group to board the shuttlecraft. "Shall we be on our way? Doctor Seren is peeved enough that we've dropped in on them without prior notification. I suggest that we not be any later for our first meeting with him."

For the personnel, the trip from ship to planet surface was a two hour maneuver from shuttle to relay station in Clarke Orbit above the CERI base for decontamination. Then, transporter to the surface and yet another decontamination regimen before being released into the CERI base environment.

McCoy was quiet through the entire process. Kirk hoped it was the result of his flat-out warning but simultaneously worried it might be the absence of sound in the seconds before an explosion.

Doctor Seren and a young Coridanite he introduced as his assistant, Mr. Renn, were waiting for the group as they exited the final decontamination chamber. Renn's chameleon-like skin, which mimicked the walls, now turned ashen at the sight of Tark. Residual animosity had existed between their two cultures since Coridan's admittance to the Federation and both Tellar Prime and Coridan representatives to the council had been threatened with censure at one time or another because of it.

As Doctor Seren led them through the facility to the common room, Kirk observed that it was typical of most: conjoined pods connected by airlocks, ducts and conduit; dormitory quarters to accommodate more than one hundred personnel, half of whom had left the planet after the initial outbreak had been managed. The other half had gradually been reduced over the past two years to the current forty six.

The facility was long on efficiency and short on comfort, tight quarters compared to the amenities offered by a constitution class starship, claustrophobic compared to the Excelsior that Sulu now captained.

On the way, Scotty and Uhura followed Mr. Renn, at Doctor Seren's suggestion, with the intention of taking a quick tour of the communications and technical facilities. The briefing would, after all, not begin until the remainder of guests from the Enterprise had cleared the decontamination process.

Kirk, McCoy and the inspectors received the base overview tour during which McCoy made more than one request to visit Doctor Chapel with unsatisfying results.

The common room, where the briefing would be held, offered more space if little in the way of improved aesthetics. Doctor Alisa Gyers stood beside a technician who occupied the single workstation in one corner of the room. The two had been setting up the visual component Doctor Seren had planned for the briefing. She bid silent greetings to Kirk and McCoy while a wall sized view screen flashed horrific images of the team's first few months on Q'a'ta'Orbin, images that harkened back to Earth's own dark past.

Before the tech could hit the kill switch, AIG Maalouf said, "I see nothing here that we have not seen in reports or briefing packets. Frankly, I am at a loss to understand why a formal briefing is necessary. Firing for effect, Doctor Seren? Perhaps the influence of a Starfleet presence?"

"Were you referring to your unsolicited and unannounced arrival on a starship of the fleet?"

"You did not answer the Assistant Inspector General's question, Seren," Tark said, his head thrown back to accentuate the nostrils of his flattened nose.

"I believe I did, Inspector Tark, to the extent it deserved a response."

Tark expelled a short grunt and pulled himself up into an even more pompous hulk. "We expected that Commander Chapel would be present upon our arrival."

"She is resting from an extended stay in the field and will be available in a few hours," Seren said.

"She's taking a nap?" Tark grinned at his own cleverness.

Doctor Seren straightened and met Tark's sarcasm with icy resolve. "An accident while we were both serving on the Bradley seven years ago created a situation that gave Doctor Chapel a choice between serious injury and watching a fellow crew member die from lack of oxygen. She chose serious injury and a two and a half year exile on Earth to convalesce. It also left her with increased vulnerability to atmospheres with low oxygen content, such as this one. It is my fervent hope that she is napping in the hyperbaric chamber, which would be following my medical advice. However, I doubt that is the case."

It was no surprise to Kirk that Christine Chapel pushed the envelope of safety to live among the Torbin, no matter how rudimentary their habitat. He often thought that to live among Tyree's people again, even for just a little while, might offer him a respite and a peace that so often eluded him.

Momentarily deflated, Tark assumed the _better part of valor_. Inspector Maalouf joined him in his retreat to the farthest corner of the room. Doctor Seren followed.

When the three of them were far enough away, Allie joined the Enterprise officers. "As much as I am loathe to admit it, Inspector Maalouf is right. This," she motioned to the view screen, "is nothing more than firing for effect, Captain."

Kirk nodded in agreement and said, "In spite of that, it's good to see _you_ again. I can't say I was surprised to find you on the complement of CERI personnel. But, last I heard you were pretty settled in at the Elurian Institute. Life in academia not enough excitement for you after you retired from Starfleet?"

Allie smiled. "Two years ago, I answered the call of an old friend for what she touted as an anthropologist's opportunity of a lifetime," she said. "And it did not disappoint. This planet is the perfect venue for my graduate students to do field study for their doctorates. Frankly, they've each fulfilled their requirements and could return to Eluria. But they've all chosen to stay. Question is, how did _you_ wind up here?"

Before Kirk could respond, or avoid responding, Doctor Seren asked for everyone's attention.

The briefing was short, as all in attendance had been privy to official reports and had been provided briefing packets. So Doctor Seren focused primarily on the agenda that had been planned for the next six days. He added only a warning about the realities of life on Q'a'ta'Orbin in the aftermath of invasion, ravaging of the ecosystem, and catastrophic disease. To his credit, he turned the briefing over to Doctor Gyers for the closing statement.

"A man named Yehuda Bauer once said," Allie began, as she sat casually on the corner of one of the tables, "'Thou shalt not be a victim, thou shalt not be a perpetrator, but, above all, thou shalt not be a bystander.'"

Pausing for half-a-second, she noticed that while Inspector Tark was still not engaged, AIG Maalouf was, at least, no longer pretending to be attentive. No matter, she was speaking primarily to the young crewmembers of the Enterprise, some of which were on their first away mission.

"As a civilization," Allie continued with little trace of her signature Kentucky accent, "the Torbin had lived far less complicated lives – before their warrior neighbors drove them to the brink of extinction, before the pandemic, before the abandonment.

"These are the circumstances that afford them emergency intervention by the Federation in spite of their lack of technological advancement. The Torbin have, indeed, been exposed to more advanced technology than they should have been. And it was the technology of holocaust. What the Romulans, through intent or unpardonable neglect, took from Q'a'ta'Orbin was more than its natural resources.

"Before the invasion, the people of this planet would have known a much different existence. We know the population of the planet had reached at least one billion. When the Ruby G. Bradley came upon Q'a'ta'Orbin, their numbers had been reduced to critical for species survival. It will likely take the people of this planet a thousand years to reconstruct and understand the ancient record. Sadly, centuries of the Torbin record are lost forever.

"But the Torbin will survive.

"The CERI team, what is left of them, has one more planetary year to help the Torbin move forward toward the future. My students and I will be staying for the duration. Those of us who have chosen to be here, on this planet, at this moment in time, are neither victim nor perpetrator.

And we will not be bystanders."

* * *

Christine had not had much time to prepare herself for the impromptu gathering before dinner that was about to commence. As much as she was looking forward to seeing old friends again, she chastised herself for dawdling in order to postpone it for as long as possible.

Her choices of attire included a floor length gown, the one luxury she had allowed herself, and her Starfleet uniform, which had not touched her body in three years. Under the circumstances, the uniform might have been more appropriate, but she chose the gown. Soon enough, she might be back in that uniform and facing a board of inquiry.

Jim Kirk, who had been waiting for her when she came out of the hyperbaric chamber, had delivered the news. She'd tried to make it as easy for him as she could. Although a surprise, the news had not been wholly unexpected. In fact, she had, on more than one occasion, considered it inevitable. She'd been operating below scanner range long enough that she wondered how she had escaped notice until now. In fact, she had to admit that the lack of notice had emboldened her. Possibly too much. Probably too much.

'Disregard for protocol bordering on insubordination' wasn't quite enough to rate, at best, a slap on the wrist or, at worst, demotion in rank as far as her career in Starfleet. But under such scrutiny, she had a snowball's chance on Dancer's Fire Moon of continuing her other activities now and only hoped that Q'a'ta'Orbin would not pay the price.

'Serenity, courage, wisdom,' she said to herself, and finally dressed, left her room and found Montgomery Scott on the terrace. He was leaning over the stone wall which was the only obstacle to a fatal drop. Mournful tones reached up through the flora that covered the cliff side below. The sound of a story-song played on a q'aben tube and the fragrance, like star jasmine, washed over her and she sent a silent 'thank you' to the great whatever that he was alone.

One could not go out on just any night and hear the music that rode the updraft from the valley. On nights like this, when there was a warm breeze instead of a burning wind, a member of the team would catch a drift of the airy tones. He or she would spread the word and soon there would be a half dozen off-duty team members on the terrace outside her quarters.

"Scotty, doesn't it remind you of the ancient highland melodies?" she asked.

"It's nae the pipes, but that it does." Even as he said it, he closed his eyes, allowed a nostalgic smile to creep across his face, and relaxed for the first time in his recent memory. But it was not the music that put him at ease.

"It's haunting," she said and put her hand on his.

"And melancholy, a wee bit like your mood."

"It reminds me of home. And I don't only mean Earth."

"I'm that pleased you think of the _Enterprise _from time to time."

"I do miss her. And you." She had often longed to see Scotty's smile and hear his gentle laughter at her attempts to master Gaelic.

They watched a shuttle sized sailbird keep itself steady while riding the wind. Like a sky surfer, its expansive kite-like wings outstretched as if protecting the valley.

"My Caledonia," she whispered.

"_Tuigidh sinn a chéile_. But they might not let you stay here, Christine. So why don't ye' just come home? Y've only to say the word."

"_A' gealladh_," she sighed in perfect Gaelic. "You don't know how tempting that is. But I have to see this through. All of it, to its logi–" Stopping mid-sentence, she flashed him the winsome smile that never failed to melt him like a pad of butter.

"And you'll fight like a banshee to stay."

She held up the small oval medallion hanging on her necklace. "Patron saint of lost causes. Guess I'm kind of stubborn that way."

"And it's the stubbornness I like about ye' best," he confided. "Shall we go in and face the music before I turn into a pumpkin and have to return to the _Enterprise_?"

"Don't suppose there's any chance we could just pull up a couple of lounge chairs and sit here on the terrace for the duration?"

Scotty answered by offering her his elbow and an understanding smile. She took his arm, _stiffened the sinews, summoned up the blood and headed once more into the breach._

Behind them, the sailbird tucked in its wings, as if reefing its sails, went into a steep dive, caught a large animal in its huge beak and, with its wing-sails still furled, spiraled through a hole in the rock carved out eons ago by an ancient sea.

* * *

In the common room, Renn was sticking to Seren like a Denebian muck-slug. Leeza Bridges kept an eye on him as he played sycophant to Doctor Seren. He appeared not only to have made peace with his nemesis but to have gone over to the other side.

The place was a caldron bubbling with the perfect ingredients for brewing confrontation. Doctor Susan Nuress had cornered Inspector Tark.

"You can't seriously think Ebola manifested itself independently on this planet. An archaic Earth virus that has never been found to be naturally occurring on any other known planet?" She knew Tark had not paid attention during the briefing. "Have you even read the reports on how the virus proliferated?"

Tark put his hand up to interrupt. His booming voice drew the attention of everyone in the room.

"I have read the reports, Doctor, and your hypothesis of how it came to the Torbin and your diatribe about the implications," he said. "But, I am not as willing as all of you are to believe the Romulans released the disease on purpose. The Romulans are opportunists. They annex planets to exploit the resources. If you have proof of their guilt, produce it and we will take the matter up with the council."

"Opportunists? You make them sound like legitimate traders!" Nuress said, her normally sallow face turning purple, incensed that Tark could be so detached. "They invaded a defenseless planet and proceeded to divest it of everything valuable, not the least of which was its population. What more support do you need? The Romulans were the only ones who could have brought a culture of the virus, no-doubt-stolen, to this planet."

Tark's harrumph could be clearly heard throughout the room. "Theory. Conjecture. I say again. Where is your proof?"

Up to that point, AIG Maalouf had been standing silently beside Tark and now found herself amidst an audience that had gathered around them. Some would describe Shani Maalouf as an unstoppable dynamo when she had a head of steam up but she could be a model of reserve when it served her purpose.

"We've not come here to engage in debate over who is responsible for the plight of the indigenous population of this planet," Maalouf said, "only to observe the status of its remediation. Given the obvious passion Commander Chapel brought to her leadership role of the Q'a'ta'Orbin initiative, it is understandable that her obsession has been transferred to the rest of the CERI team. We can only hope that Doctor Seren's leadership will be less dramatic."

It was Allie Gyers who effectively ended the debate. She sat at an antiquated, travel-worn keyboard and began to play an etude she had recently composed which began with a bravado striking of the keys.

"Status?" Uhura said more than asked as she leaned over and whispered to Allie. "I heard justification. Over the last few years, she's turned respect for the Prime Directive into a dogma that borders on witch hunt."

"Christine believes Inspector Maalouf is simply following her conscience," Allie said, finishing the etude. "Checks and balances, healthy debate, keeping us all honest, necessary evils, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

McCoy joined them and rolling his eyes said, "Sounds like her. Where is she anyway?"

After entering the common room, Scotty planted a ceremonious kiss on Christine's hand and headed toward the beverage table, while Christine glided over to greet Uhura and McCoy. Her gown moved with her like kelgi grass in a soft breeze. Made of the most delicate fibers the resilient native oolya plant could offer, the silky fabric lent her a deceptive appearance of vulnerability.

She gave a quick greeting and embrace to Uhura and asked McCoy, "Leonard? Is something wrong?"

"Why would you think something's wrong? Aside from the fact that Doctor Seren wouldn't allow visitors while you were in therapy." His expression was more guilty than disappointed.

Christine leaned in and narrowed her eyes into an accusation. "I know that look." She might as well get it over with. If she didn't, he would stew about it the rest of the evening.

"Four days," he said. "We have four days, three of them scheduled to the brim with this damnable unnecessary inspection and Uhura monopolizing you." McCoy shot a glance toward Uhura. "No offense."

"None taken," Uhura responded, and expelled a chuckle into her drink. "I have to return to the Enterprise tonight, but I'll be back."

"We won't have much time to talk," McCoy said.

"Of course we will," Christine said, relieved. "You act as if we hadn't seen each other in twenty years. Besides, we communicated less than two months ago."

"About that. [Damnit!]" McCoy cursed under his breath when Spock appeared out of nowhere.

"Have I interrupted something?" he asked. If mock innocence was a commodity, Spock would have had the market cornered.

"No…no, Spock," McCoy said. He glared at the Vulcan with pinched pale blue eyes and assumed the condescending tone he knew Spock found particularly irritating, "No more than usual."

Spock ignored McCoy as if the doctor had spontaneously cloaked. He motioned to an Enterprise officer who was standing nearby to join him and then focused his full attention on Christine, greeting her not with his usual Vulcan salute but with an ever so slight bow of his head. "Doctor Chapel."

She went imperceptibly rigid. McCoy went perceptibly rigid.

"Captain Spock," she said.

From the other side of the common room, Jim Kirk had just filled his glass with a salmon colored liquid when he felt a nudge from Montgomery Scott and followed his nod toward the group around Allie's keyboard."

Heeding Scotty's silent advice, Kirk made his way over to the group. Without moving a single facial muscle, he bored a warning glare straight through McCoy and then quickly replacing that with a smile for Christine, he put his glass down on the surface behind the keyboard and sat down beside Allie.

"Shall we?" he asked, placing the fingers of his right hand on the upper scale keys. Allie placed all ten fingers on the lower scale and together they played a soft, slow rendition of _Heart and Soul_.

While the group listened dutifully as Allie and Kirk finished the retrospective, they were joined by the officer from the Enterprise. Spock introduced him as Lieutenant Korsakov, ship's historian.

Allie stood and held out her hand. "I'm Doctor Alisa Gyers. I believe you will be with me for the time you're here."

Lieutenant Korsakov shook her hand and said, a bit too enthusiastically, "Yes, I know. I've looked forward to meeting you, Doctor Gyers, especially since you began your Starfleet career as ship's historian on the Enterprise."

"Another life. And please, call me Allie."

He blushed. "I read your book."

"Ah, so you're the one."

McCoy said, "Make that two. Read it in one sitting. Couldn't hit pause."

"Of course you couldn't Leonard, since you've always found exo-anthropology such a tha-rillin' subject," she said, with that playful smile of hers and the thick Kentucky accent she trotted out on such occasions.

Kirk snickered.

"No, I'm serious," McCoy declared, beaming a wide grin at her. "It was…fascinating."

"Doctor Chapel," Spock said. "I believe I speak for Lieutenant Korsakov in saying that we are both intrigued by your references to 'the Q'e' in your earliest reports. We look forward to discussing them with you. If you can spare the time."

"Myths and legends are Doctor Gyers' area of study," Christine returned with an almost sad smile. "I'm sure she can make some time to discuss the subject with you both before you leave Q'a'ta'Orbin."

"Of course," Spock said, stiffly, with neither body in his voice nor canting of the brow, and without looking in Allie's direction to confirm agreement.

Lieutenant Korsakov pulled at the collar of his uniform. Allie, Kirk and McCoy stared hard into their glasses.

"You look great, Christine." Uhura said, negotiating the millisecond of weirdness that had suddenly, and inexplicably, intruded into the group dynamic. "Living on the frontier seems to agree with you."

Lieutenant Korsakov looked for an opportunity during the change in subject to begin a stealthy retreat.

"Should've seen her a month ago when she was sportin' a black eye and a fractured ulna," Allie said. "And that's not just a scratch healin' on her forehead."

"I never felt better," Christine said.

"After therapy and another session to go. I'll be the judge of the status of your health," McCoy said, "after I check you out."

Christine immediately adjusted her tone. "Doctor Seren gave me a complete physical not ten hours ago." She motioned toward Abel, whose present attention was riveted in conversation with AIG Maalouf. "I just finished an extensive round of blood work, metabolic scans, neuro scans and I reviewed the results myself."

"No arguments. I've already scheduled it." McCoy said, imperiously reestablishing mastery of his domain.

Christine let out a heavy sigh.

With the awkward reunion out of the way, Scotty finally ambled over to the group to give Christine a peck on the cheek before he and Uhura escorted Inspector Tark back to the _Enterprise_. Tark had initially been included as part of the inspection team. Now, it appeared, his duties suddenly required him to return to the _Enterprise _for the duration.

Careful maneuvering and the eager participation of Allie Gyers and Leonard McCoy, allowed Christine to avoid any interaction with AIG Maalouf through the remainder of the evening.

Lieutenant Korsakov enjoyed the more relaxed company of his fellow shipmates from the Enterprise, on the other side of the room.

The buffet style dinner consisted not of native fare but of a non-replicated sampling of vegetarian entrées made from the team's own garden stock. Then the room began to thin out as Enterprise crew migrated to other parts of the base or to find their assigned quarters.

During the after dinner liqueur, Doctor Seren was called away, Renn close on his heels. Christine kept her eye on the door, as if ready to bolt any second.

At one point, McCoy leaned over and whispered to her, "Know the feeling."

It didn't escape Kirk's notice that she was atypically pensive, glanced in his direction more than once, and was not as attentive to Leonard McCoy as he had expected, or hoped, she would be.

When inspector Maalouf was offered escort to her quarters and left the room, and the complement in the common room had been reduced to friendlies, Kirk turned to Christine and said, "Okay, Doctor, what's on your mind?"

She dropped the professional niceties. A trilithium crystal-hard resolve and the tightly crossed arms offered a stark contrast to her attire.

"The bastards only pulled their mining operations off this planet because it was of no use to them anymore. Now they're claiming Q'a'ta'Orbin was never abandoned – trying to twist the Federation relief mission into some sort of manifest destinyindictment. Ironic, don't you think?

"They sucked this planet dry until there was nothing left they could use to feed their military machine. And now they're whining to the Federation Council."

Allie Gyers added, "I'm afraid there are some members on the Council who are taking it seriously."

"Ambassador Nanclus," Spock said, "contends the virus spread so rapidly through the planet's population the Empire had little time to transition to a medical presence. They claim the Federation advanced upon the planet during that transition. The ambassador has acknowledged the Federation's efforts with respect to remediation and has offered the assistance of the Romulan Star Empire."

"What part of the Star Empire would that be?" Christine asked. "The xenophobic military, the despotic senate, or the unheard populous we know next to nothing about?"

"I did not say that I agree with him," Spock responded.

Allie glowered at her, not for the first time during the evening. The effort to restrain her emotional investment had fueled her response and she berated herself for it.

"I know what they're claiming," she said, her voice resuming control. "The Romulans still want something from this planet. And it has nothing to do with any sudden galactic awakening of sentientarian responsibility."

Renn appeared in the doorway and gingerly approached the group.

"Doctor Chapel," he said.

She acknowledged him with the same coolness she had visited upon him all evening. "Yes, Mr. Renn?" As if he wasn't smarting from Leeza's icy glare.

"Doctor Nuress requests that you join her in her lab."

"Thank you." Christine turned to McCoy as Renn took his cue to leave. "Want to come with?"

"Love to." McCoy followed her and they both disappeared into the right corridor.

When the door closed behind them, Allie said, "Ambassador Nanclus is shoveling a load of crap and we all know it."

"I believe Ambassador Sarek recently expressed the same concerns in Council," Kirk said. "Without the colorful Kentucky metaphors, of course." He winked at Allie.

"Doctor Chapel has her champions as well as her detractors," Spock replied.

"Well, the detractors certainly won't be able to argue with her results," Allie said, then paused. "But, she's been waging a campaign outside the normal channels and I'm afraid she's been rockin' the boat a little too vigorously for her own good."

* * *

An hour later, Kirk and Spock were making their way to their respective assigned quarters. Before reaching their destination, a general-quarters alert issued from a nearby klaxon. At the same time, Christine and McCoy emerged from a nearby airlock with the AIG team, minus Inspector Maalouf, following closely behind.

"Bones. What is it?" Kirk asked, reacting to the contorted expression on McCoy's face.

"There's been a new outbreak of the virus."

Escaping the siege of the inspectors' entourage, all talking at once, Kirk started to call the _Enterprise_. Christine interrupted him, "Captain, you can't let anyone else leave or return to the ship."

Simultaneously, Spock closed his communicator and declared, "We are in lockdown, Captain. Q'a'ta'Orbin is under an EHF Level One quarantine."

"You can confirm it with Doctor Seren if you like," Christine continued, "but I'm afraid I have to make that a medical order."

"Has it mutated again?" Kirk guessed. "Bones?"

McCoy's expression was grim when he said, "Jim, we think it's been weaponized."

* * *

_A/N: "...better part of valor..." - King Henry the Fourth, William Shakespeare_

_"...stiffened the sinews, summoned up the blood and headed once more into the breach..." - Henry V, William Shakespeare_

_Tuigidh sinn a chéile_ is Gaelic for 'I understand your meaning'

_A' gealladh_ is Gaelic meaning 'the word' (or promise)


	3. Threats from the Past

_**Chapter Three: Threats from the past**_

Contribution by: Samuel G. Pengraff

**Bridge of the USS **_**Enterprise-A**_**  
2291**

Captain Montgomery Scott could cut the tension with a knife.

It was bad enough that James T. Kirk and a sizable fraction of his crew were quarantined on Q'a'ta'Orbin, the home planet of the Torbin. But this problem paled against the three Romulan Birds of Prey that had unexpectedly de-cloaked in a flanking formation around the _Enterprise_. Scotty was in command, but he doubted that his years of experience as an engineer would help him much now.

"A message coming in, sir."

Scotty nodded to Commander Uhura.

The main viewer displayed an immaculately coiffed Romulan officer leaning back into his chair. "This is Commander Malok of the _IRW Vekora_. May we render _assistance?_"

Scotty could detect an unpleasant odor on the Commander's offer right from the start, but there was something about this Romulan that was more than empty rhetoric. He played along.

"Captain Scott, _USS_ _Enterprise_. And what kind of assistance do ya' think we'd be needin', Commander?"

"Oh, I don't know. A little of this, a little of that. Some help getting out of orbit, perhaps, or the safe transport of your crew back to your ship through our bio-filters?"

Scotty knew that both men were fishing for information, but if he played it too cool he might never discover what Malok really knew. It was a balancing act.

"And how would ye' know about that?"

"So close to the neutral zone, Captain. Why it's my _business_ to know."

"Well then I dinna' suppose you'd have decon experience with a weaponized strain of Ebola virus, would ye'?"

"Of course. We would never weaponize any bio-agent unless we had – shall we say – a _suitable_ countermeasure."

This Romulan had a way of making himself painfully clear. Malok was granting the _Enterprise_ the chance to safely withdraw with its crew and Federation counterparts intact, but if such 'diplomacy' failed then a well-placed plasma torpedo just might be next. Scotty hated all such veiled threats, but he knew it wasn't the time to burn any bridges, either. Not yet, anyway.

"I thank ye' for your kind offer, Commander," Scotty said, choking a little on the words. "We will confer on the subject and contact ye' presently."

"You have six hours, Captain. Malok out."

Uhura had already reached Kirk and had him standing by.

"Captain Kirk, didja' hear that? This Romulan has out and out admitted that it was them that created the virus. He was bloody proud of it."

"Yes, typical Romulan gunboat diplomacy. Just when you discover they have the upper hand, you learn that there is another hand above it and they have that one, too."

"Aye, Captain, that about sums it up."

"Mister Scott, you are ordered to hold position. We are not going to abandon the Torbin again."

"But, sir…"

"It's simple Scotty. I want you to accept his offer."

"Oh, I _see_. You want me to string 'em along."

"Buy us some time, Scotty. As much as you can…"

"Come to think of it they wouldn't expect us to use their bio-filters without testin' them first, now would they?"

"That's the spirit, Scotty. Talk to Doctor Chapel about that – she can assign someone from CERI to help you."

**Planet** **Q'a'ta'Orbin  
****CERI Headquarters**

"We're faced with a classic siege plan," said Kirk, addressing his officers in the same briefing room that, hours ago, had held such promise for the future. "The nearest Starfleet vessel is more than a week away and, in any force, closer to two."

The captain continued. "Our best guess is that this new weaponized strain of Ebola is infectious to both Humans and Torbins, but probably not to Romulans. They believe that all they have to do is wait and the planet will again fall into their hands. And they might be right. If the new strain is a type we don't recognize then their plan might work. The next Starfleet vessel may arrive upon a planet populated by only a handful of non-Terran members of Starfleet that the Romulans will almost Certainly use as bargaining chips. _Time_ is not on our side."

"Sir," Spock suggested, "it is logical that the Romulans planned the release of the weaponized strain some time ago using a network of hidden canisters scattered across the planet. Indeed, _Enterprise_ sensors reveal that their Birds of Prey were dispatched from Romulus weeks before the EBOV-Torbin was released into the atmosphere.

Spock canted an eyebrow and raised his voice almost imperceptibly. "But what is not clear is _why_ the Romulans are here. Have they not stripped the planet of every valuable resource?"

"It's like every other time a pathogen is deliberately released into a large population," grumbled a nearby McCoy. "Someone just wants to know how bad _bad_ can get."

Kirk sat pensively taking it all in, wondering in what direction lay the fighting chance. "There's no _one_ answer here that will save us," he firmly concluded. "We must fight back on multiple fronts. If we can find out what the Romulans are looking for then maybe we can make it a little harder for them to get it. Captain Spock, that's you and your team."

But there was more to Kirk's plan. "If we can find a cure, develop a more effective treatment or _somehow_ neutralize this virus then we put time back on _our_ side. I understand Doctor Seren has tested positive for the virus, so Doctor Chapel, you're heading that team. Choose whomever you need." McCoy was pleased with the choice, and it showed. For once he wouldn't have to be in charge. Maybe now he could get some real science done.

Kirk, his mind now working in high gear, opened a channel to the _Enterprise_ bridge. "Commander Chekov. How long would it take for you to detect every viral release point on Q'a'ta'Orbin and deactivate them – permanently? We want to know where the EHF was aerosolized and ensure it doesn't happen again."

"Sir, I would be heppy to, but Doctor Chapel has already requested the same t'ing. Keptin Spock himself approved it."

Doctor Chapel, sitting quietly beside Spock, smiled radiantly until Kirk said, "Thank you, Commander Chapel, for having the foresight."

"Its standard procedure, sir, and you were busy at the time."

"And we're all about to get a lot busier," said Kirk as he dismissed his officers. "Let's see if _we_ can get the upper hand."

**Planet ****Q'a'ta'Orbin  
****CERI ****headquarters, Central Lab**

Spock approached Kirk and got straight to the point. The fact that he had developed an entirely new form of scanning in the process merited no comment. It was typical Vulcan modesty.

"Captain, my scans reveal that the cargo holds of all three Birds of Prey are conspicuously empty, except for mining equipment designed expressly for the extraction of the mineral Beresium from asteroids."

"There are no asteroids in the Q'a'ta'Orbin system, Mister Spock," Kirk countered, "but I know that Beresium is _very_ toxic. It would be unthinkable to mine this mineral on any class M planet."

"Unthinkable for us, Captain. Perhaps not unthinkable for the Romulans."

"Are you suggesting that the Romulans released the virus as a prelude to their mining operations? To wipe every Torbin out, first?"

"I believe the situation speaks for itself, Captain," Spock replied.

"All right, Spock, you've established means and opportunity. But what about _motive?_ Unless we can more strongly connect Beresium to the Romulans then the last piece of the puzzle is not in place."

"Sir, I have also scanned the Romulan warp core. I believe I am seeing the signature for Beresium, but the signal is very weak. We are currently conducting more accurate measurements from the _Enterprise_. It is likely that we will establish that the Romulans use Beresium to maintain their warp core reaction."

"And have you also performed planetary scans for the mineral?"

"They are also positive, sir. I believe a large Beresium-laden asteroid impacted Q'a'ta'Orbin in its distant past. It is buried deep beneath the surface, but within the reach of Romulan mining technology."

"Mister Spock, I believe you have put the final piece in place. I'm informing all teams that we have established the probable motivation behind the Romulans appearance on Q'a'ta'Orbin."

"Captain, there is another piece."

Kirk's look gave him the permission he was seeking.

"Sir, Beresium can be chemically transformed into a safe inert substance by use of a reducing agent. The ship's phasers and transporters can be used to position sufficient quantities of the agent in place. The entire process will require about three hours and require the assistance of only Commander Chekov."

"Will this chemical transformation have any negative impact upon the planetary environment?"

"None, sir. The Beresium is buried very deeply, far below the deepest water table. It is far more dangerous to the survival of the Torbin if we do nothing."

"Then, by all means, Mister Spock, proceed."

**Planet Q'a'ta'Orbin  
****CERI Headquarters, Central Lab**

Doctor Chapel unconsciously squeezed the specimen container in her hand as she walked past Doctor Seren's biobed. She couldn't see him through the tent that shrouded him, and she silently prayed he was not suffering. He might have only hours left, she thought, but struggled to reclaim the professional detachment she knew she would need today more than ever.

"Here is that blood sample you requested, Len. I thought I'd bring it down myself. Just like old times." Christine placed the vial in the rack marked 'Seren'.

McCoy picked up the vial and placed it into his microscope. He adjusted its viewscreen. "I was never very good at that."

"At _what?_"

"At putting a sick friend out of my mind."

"Maybe I can teach you," Christine smiled, trying to be helpful.

"Maybe," McCoy grumbled. "But I'm not sure I _want_ to be good at it."

"Len, sometimes I think you would rather absorb _all_ of your patients' pain for them."

Christine had struck a nerve. "No I don't – deep down I _hate_ sick people," he lashed out. "Can you name another occupation where your failures _thank_ you for trying?"

There was a pause. A long pause, until McCoy finally looked up towards her. Anyone else might easily have been worried, but Christine knew the man, understood the man – and knew that the discussion was best ended now, before it became something worse.

"So. How does our specimen look?" asked Christine, seeing the result appearing on the microscope's display.

"Well the good news is that this sample is no different than all the others. The so-called weaponized version of the virus is a 100% nucleotide match to the previous virus. They're all type EBOV-Torbin, Christine, one is just aerosolized."

It was the best possible news but Christine struggled to restrain her anger. "Then Spock was right. The Romulans have been behind this all along – first making it look like an accident and then, when that didn't work, trying to jump straight to extermination."

"At least our current treatments for the virus will work. We just need to ramp them up. More biobeds, more stasis units, more..."

"More _everything,_" declared Doctor Chapel. "But as bad as things are going to get over the next few days, Len, this time we're on the winning side."

**Bridge of the USS **_**Enterprise-A**_

The exasperation in Scotty's voice was obvious to everyone, especially Kirk. He had known it firsthand all too well.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to fire your negotiator. I've not had much luck feedin' the baloney to these Romulans, and now this Commander Malok is demandin' to speak wi' you!"

"Scotty, you've held them off for five hours. Your reputation as negotiator is intact. Patch me through to Commander Malok."

Malok looked rattled after five fruitless hours with Scotty. "Captain Kirk, I presume?"

"Commander Malok, my apologies…"

"Captain – _please!_ – no more equivocations! I'm sure you know that all Romulan Birds of Prey are equipped with plasma torpedoes."

"Is that a threat, Commander?"

"It is a certainty, Captain, just as it is a certainty that a Bird of Prey cannot return home if it launches even one such torpedo. You see, they share a common fuel source with our warp drive engines."

"I imagine that makes you very reluctant to start a battle?"

"Precisely, Captain, _but always eager to finish one._"

"Let's, for the moment, say we understand each other, Commander. What does the _Enterprise_ have to do to stay out of the way of one of your plasma torpedoes?"

"Very simple, Captain. You must leave at once."

"That is impossible. We have hundreds of personnel on a quarantined planet."

"Captain, you know full well that what you call the virus is treatable with a less than two per cent mortality rate – and that's before being passed through our bio-filters."

Kirk had wished all along that he was on his ship and now it looked like he was going to get that wish. But now he was sure he would regret it more than any other in his career. "Can you give me three hours to evacuate my crew, Commander?"

Malok looked a peculiar combination of frustration and anger, but retained the good sense to realize the folly of instigating a war with the Federation.

"Granted – but not a minute more."

**Bridge of the USS **_**Enterprise-A**_

Doctor Chapel was incensed, and her image nearly peeled the top layer off the main viewer. "Captain Kirk, this is a betrayal of everything that Starfleet and the Federation have stood for. I'm staying here, with the Torbin."

The news of the evacuation of all Federation personnel from Q'a'ta'Orbin had not been received well. The Torbin believed that they were being thrown to the Romulan lions and that the Federation was deserting them in their moment of greatest need. But James T. Kirk's hands were tied. There was clearly an informant at work and if Malok uncovered what Spock was doing, the _Enterprise_ would find itself a charred collection of debris in a rapidly decaying orbit.

"Doctor Chapel, you're going to have to trust me that this story is going to end well. We need you up here, monitoring the Romulan bio-filters. It's new technology to us. I hope you'll reconsider."

Spock was the third person to transport back to the _Enterprise_, immediately following Doctor Chapel. He had secretly completed the positioning of the reducing agent ahead of schedule and wanted to be on the bridge when his system was activated. From his quarters Spock used the extra time to run further tests. He discussed his 'project' with no one and when he was satisfied that his system was functional he walked to the bridge and personally delivered the message into Kirk's ear, "Sir, the project is ready."

It was three hours to the second when Malok contacted Kirk.

"Captain Kirk. I believe your time is up."

"Then you're just in time to witness our departure," Kirk acknowledged, leaving the channel open.

Malok watched as Kirk shouted a new destination to his helmsman and then called for an orbital exit speed of full impulse. The Captain raised his arm as an unbelieving crew awaited his final command, even as the ship's transporters were still in the process of transporting personnel from the surface. The bridge had suddenly been transformed into a nuthouse of wild eyes that shot back and forth from one crewmember to another. Malok watched on as Kirk dropped his arm.

"Activate!" shouted Kirk.

Spock, who stood stoically while the crew raged in quiet frenzy, calmly activated his network of reducing agents from his science station. Before Chekov could say, "Sir, didn't you mean to say 'engage'?" all Beresium on the planet had been rendered inert, and of no value to the Romulans.

Malok could not understand what his eyes were telling him until a centurion approached and whispered something into his ear.

For a moment Malok looked like an overheated boiler that had suddenly lost its rivets, "_Kirk!"_ he screamed through his teeth. Malok's connection on the main viewer was 'accidentally' severed at that moment by Uhura.

"The connection was lost, sir," smiled Uhura to Kirk.

It was way past too late for the Romulans. All of it. There was no more Beresium, and neither hanging around Q'a'ta'Orbin nor blowing the _Enterprise_ out of the sky would bring it back.

Kirk correctly guessed that the Romulan Commander would not waste a plasma torpedo, and therefore one of his Birds of Prey, on their pointless destruction. But Kirk had never expected a final crackly note of appreciation from Commander Malok as his vessels disappeared into the distance.

"Well played, Kirk," he said. "Well played."


	4. Trojan Horses

_**Chapter Four: Trojan horses**_

As the nuthouse on the bridge settled into relieved exhalation, Spock approached the captain's chair. Standing beside it and staring into the main screen, which now displayed only the view of the planet, Spock queried Kirk.

"Hundreds of personnel on a quarantined planet, Captain?" he asked. "Surely, the Vekora's sensors were able to detect that there were, at the time, exactly one hundred and thirty six non-Torbin bio-signatures on the surface of Q'a'ta'Orbin."

Before Kirk could explain that he was merely meeting Malok's swagger, Spock continued his own thought. "Tit for tat?"

Kirk smiled. He never knew when Spock's sense of humor, surreptitious though it was, would show itself these days but was always delighted when it did.

On the bridge of the Vekora, Captain Malok approached his security chief who was standing well out of earshot of the rest of his bridge crew. "Vartok, we will pass the Federation buoys in three point four minutes. Have you located Sub Commander Farus?"

"Sir," he said. "She is not on the Vekora, the Deloka, or the Nokeen."

"The last known confirmation she was aboard the Vekora?" Malok asked.

"Ship's computers register her signature seconds before the bio-filters were transferred to _Enterprise_. Nothing after that."

"Are the other captains aware?"

"Not yet, sir, my investigation was discreet."

"Then," Malok said, "See to it that it remains so."

* * *

Still on Enterprise, Christine walked beside McCoy down the corridor and entered the turbo lift just behind him. After McCoy spoke the deck destination, she wasted no time driving home her point.

"This episode should eliminate any illusion the Romulans' concern for Q'a'ta'Orbin is anything other than mercenary," she said, then added, the distress clearly evident in her voice, "Abel died ten minutes ago."

"I know," he said.

She closed her eyes and drew two or three shallow, cautious breaths.

McCoy couldn't determine from her expression whether it was one of sadness, or anger, or fear. Neither of them had been able to spare the time during the crisis of the past hours to verbalize what had concerned each of them about Seren's infection.

She wondered if she'd missed something - if mistakes had been made or if unforgivable carelessness was responsible.

"We'll need an autopsy but I can't do it," she said, opening her eyes. "We've returned as many CERI personnel to the field as possible but it will not be enough. There's more at stake than managing the outbreak."

Visions of bodies piling up on the island and inevitable contamination of the water supply fueled the urgency for her to return to the surface and begin what she feared would be more a matter of counting the dead than treating the afflicted.

"Jim's meeting us in his forward briefing room," McCoy said, nodding his understanding.

When they arrived at the captain's briefing room, Kirk offered her his condolences on the loss of Doctor Seren and motioned them into his office.

"Thank you," she said as she took a seat in one of the chairs. "But I'm troubled by something more than Abel's death. All Federation personnel and those Torbin not living on the island were protected by vaccination, including Abel."

"Aside from treatment that was ineffectual," McCoy said, "Doctor Seren should never have contracted the virus. I'll need to perform an autopsy," McCoy added.

"It will have to be done on Q'a'ta'Orbin," Christine said, "and you'll need Susan Nuress. She knows more about Ebola and its mutations than anyone in the known galaxy."

"Captain," Christine, said, "Those living on the island were never infected as a result of the original pandemic because of their isolation. As if by specific selection, the new cases are Edgers – Torbin living on the island but outside the Shroud."

"The so called forbidden zone," Kirk said. "Scans have never been able to verify any life-signs, sentient or otherwise, within that zone."

"But if there are Torbin hidden there," she said, "even the original strain of Ebola released directly into the heart of that island is a time bomb waiting to go off, if it hasn't already." At that she stood up. "So you'll understand why I need to return immediately."

Before Kirk could respond, the door signal sounded and Kirk said, "Enter."

With Pavel Chekov close behind, Spock walked in with an acknowledgement to Christine, then McCoy, and made for the work station.

"With your permission, Captain?" he said, motioning to Chekov.

Permission understood, Chekov sat at the console and pulled up the results of sensor scans.

"The search of the planet for all viral release points is complete. All canisters have been permanently neutralized," Spock said to Kirk, then turning to Christine he continued, "As part of the deactivation process, Mr. Chekov and his team have discovered an interesting feature of the Lake A'bn island."

Chekov continued, "The chaotic magnetic fields that interfere with scanning, or beaming, was already known from the scans of the first ship to scout the planet after the opening of this sector of space. The whole planet is riddled with natural pockets of magnetic fields with the potential for rapid change. But more interesting is that somewhere in the magnetic interference below the heawiest concentration of fog is an energy field that we do not think is naturally occurring." He brought up a computer simulation of the field. It undulated and winked in and out of existence and finally became static when the computer finished combining the data into a cohesive rendering. "The elements that make up the field are faint and elusive. It took more than an hour to produce these images."

"Origin?" Kirk asked.

"Captain, the origin, and in fact, the exact nature of the energy field, is uncertain at this time and would require investigation on the surface," Spock said. "And that area of the planet…"

"Is forbidden. Yes, I think we've established that," Kirk said.

A satellite view of the island came up on the screen. It was situated just off center of Lake Ab'n, which was midpoint between the two shores of the peninsula.

"If the energy field, whatever its nature, isn't natural to this planet, then who put it there, and why?" Kirk asked more to himself than those present.

"Left by the Romulans?" Chekov said, also pondering without confidence.

Kirk paused only for a moment's reflection of hard-won understanding that the most obvious answer is, more often than not, the wrong answer. "Good work, Mr. Chekov, as usual."

"It was Ensign Ng who discowered the quantum energy signature. She is wery young, only seventeen. Wery brilliant."

"Pavel, you can brag about your prize student on your own time. What about the canisters?" McCoy said.

"We found canisters strategically placed around the entire peninsula. Only those on the wery edge of the island, on the west side, had actually been activated to release the aerosolized virus."

Kirk glanced quickly at Christine to acknowledge her earlier observation about specific selection.

"As far as we know, that area of the island is the densest concentration of Edgers," she said. "Until now, they've only come out of the thick vegetation at night to fish. If not for the land bridge they would never have made it to our lakeside outposts in time to save as many as we have. And I doubt that if the Survivor population had not all but vacated the area, the Edgers would have even tried to reach out for help."

"Doctor, with the Edgers being treated in the Romulan barracks, how volatile do you believe situation could become?" Spock asked.

"Doctor Gyers could provide you with a more accurate assessment," Christine said, "but I believe, without careful management, the potential is very high. We've already lost crucial hours in which to lessen the potential." She unfolded her arms and turned to Kirk.

"Captain," she said, "I _am_ relieved that the release of the virus appears to be an isolated incident and as much as I would like to be involved in the search for the 'why,' my responsibility is to the Torbin and the CERI team. I've checked the weather patterns. The dust storms are intensifying in the west and the summer deluge from the east will be upon us within three days, possibly less. The lake is already beginning to rise from the storms to the east. I insist on returning to the surface to help normalize the situation."

"The Torbin trust her, Jim. That'll go a long way to demonstrate to them that the Federation hasn't abandoned them," McCoy said.

"We can't allow the Romulans a second opportunity to undo the progress the Torbin have made," Christine quietly pleaded. "And I'm making an official request for as many Enterprise medical personnel as you can spare."

"Until I hear otherwise from Starfleet Command," Kirk said to the group, "and that might take a week or more, Doctor Chapel will be responsible for the CERI team on Q'a'ta'Orbin."

Then, he turned to Christine. "We'll give you all the cooperation we can. But, I'll only allow a skeleton crew of personnel from the _Enterprise _down on the surface, at least until we can get some answers. Bones, Spock will follow up with you. And, Doctor Chapel – I reserve the option of carrying out my duties as captain of this ship. In short, Commander, I won't hesitate to pull rank on you and consider you, Lieutenant Bridges and all other Federation citizens on the planet subject to my direct orders if the need arises."

"Understood," Christine said and, after excusing herself, left the office.

After the door closed behind her, McCoy declared, proudly, "She'll never leave without one hell of a fight."

Spock said, "That is a certainty."

* * *

Detouring the convoluted path used previous to their installation, Spock made his return to the surface of Q'a'ta'Orbin through the Romulan bio-filters with the last group of CERI support staff and headed for the isolation ward at base. He arrived just as McCoy and Nuress were exiting the decontamination chamber.

"Are you prepared to report your findings?" He asked both, but was looking for an answer from McCoy.

"Doctor Seren didn't die from the same virus we identified as the aerosolized strain."

"The sample you analyzed initially indicated otherwise, Doctor McCoy. Was there an error in the first sampling?"

"No, Spock. Doctor Nuress compared the sample I analyzed with a blood sample we took during the autopsy."

Nuress, who had been working on her padd, stepped in. "The first sample, which we've verified with Doctor Seren's DNA, indicates a perfect match to E718T, also referred to as ZEBOV-Torbin, the original strain that caused the epidemic. Left unchecked, it has a ninety five percent mortality rate for infected Torbin. Once introduced into this planet's environment, the virus reached pandemic proportions within weeks, killing half the remaining population within the first five months after the original outbreak."

Eager to get back to the point, McCoy said, "The blood and tissue samples we collected during the autopsy show the virus that killed Seren was a particularly virulent mutation of the original strain; the same mutation that cropped up about the time of the team's arrival."

"ZEBOV-T2," Nuress added. "The T2 mutation has an incredibly short incubation period and replicates at an alarming rate. A completely effective anti-viral was developed for the Torbin victims. But not before many more Torbin died. There are slight, but important, differences between Torbin and Human RNA. A few of our staff contracted the mutation in spite of their inoculation against the original strain. So we found early on that Human RNA, in a bizarre twist, actually contributes to the rapid replication, morphing into T2H. The physiological damage Seren presented was super accelerated, right down to the rapid onset of maculopapular rash."

McCoy jumped in. "More samples were taken less than an hour before Seren died and the mutation was identified. But, by then, it was too late. If the mutation had been detected even an hour earlier, he might have recovered."

"We were administering the LJ001-H," Nuress finished, shaking her head, "not the SJ005-T2H that would have been effective against the T2H virus."

"Is there a threat to the general Torbin populous or those on the island from the mutated strain?" Spock asked.

"None," Nuress said, "Seren contracted the mutation while in isolation. He had no contact with any of the Torbin, and limited contact with CERI staff, which have all tested negative for either strain. One thing we do know is that the original virus could not have spontaneously mutated in Seren's system."

"Then we are dealing with two queries" Spock conjectured. "How did Doctor Seren contract the aerosolized strain? And, how did he contract the mutation?"

"We know how he contracted the mutation," McCoy said, hesitating while he massaged the back of his neck.

"It was administered," Nuress said.

"Administered?" Spock asked.

"Doctor Seren was infected, deliberately, through a patch he wore for common diabetes management," McCoy said. "The question isn't how, but why?"

Spock turned, staring hard into the blank wall. After a few seconds he turned to the stony faced doctors, and asked, "Doctor McCoy, may I speak to you in private?"

Doctor Nuress excused herself to relate the findings to Doctor Chapel. The moment she disappeared around the corner Spock asked, "You are certain the mutated virus was deliberately administered?"

"Of course I'm certain, dammit," McCoy spat, with one eye squinted and its eyebrow raised. "Administered was Susan's choice of words. Seren was murdered, as surely as you're standin' there."

When Spock turned to leave, McCoy demanded, "Where the blazes are _you_ going?"

Spock turned back to him and said, "Please continue to coordinate your efforts with Doctor Nuress and make an official report to me of your findings as soon as possible," then, he turned to leave and, this time, kept on walking.


	5. Someone Left the Cake Out in the Rain

_A/N: Chapter has been updated for continuity._

* * *

_**Chapter Five: **__**Someone left the cake out in the rain**_

_Captain's Log, Stardate 9103.22: _

"_The _Enterprise_ has been in orbit above Q'a'ta'Orbin for twenty three hours. Precautionary restrictions are still in effect. All warning buoys within half a light year's distance in every direction remain at quarantine status until further notice._

_While Doctors McCoy and Nuress refine their medical investigation into Doctor Seren's death, Captain Spock continues to search for motive and opportunity. _

Before he could continue, the comm. on the conference table chirped and Uhura's voice said, "Captain, Mister Spock and Doctor McCoy are ready on Q'a'ta'Orbin."

"First, give me a status on your review of communications and then I'll talk to Spock."

"We've isolated the few encrypted official messages from those that are simply messages for family and friends. Nothing stands out. Cryptography is still going over all the personal messages. Computer scan of Doctor Seren's journals has revealed nothing substantive. They're not encrypted, so if there's anything to find, it will likely be between the lines. Commander Gyers is reading them in case there is anything she can discern intuitively. Lieutenant Korsakov is searching the video logs for all relief team personnel. So far, he hasn't come up with anything that isn't legitimate – mostly documentation for studies or seminars bound for medical or scientific institutions. We're still looking."

"Thank you, Commander, you can put McCoy and Spock through."

"Patching them through now, Sir."

"Spock," Kirk said, "Anything from the interviews you've conducted?"

"The majority of CERI personnel were in field units and, therefore, were not on our interview roster. Doctor McCoy has reviewed the recorded interviews. I must bow to his expertise with regard to psychological interpretations."

McCoy walked over to chime in.

"To make a long story short, Jim," McCoy said, "most of the individuals Spock has talked to were pretty ambivalent about Seren. Not that they could attribute it to anything specific. They just didn't think enough of the man to drum up anything more than a healthy dislike for him, with one exception – his assistant, Mr. Renn."

"Mr. Renn was formerly Doctor Chapel's administrative assistant," Spock added.

"Anything there, Doctor McCoy, with Mr. Renn, I mean?" Kirk asked.

"Nothing substantial. Some veiled responses that appear to be attempts at avoidance," McCoy said. "The consensus of opinion is that Mr. Renn is inordinately loyal to Christine."

"Loyalty is a virtue revered on Coridan," Spock said. "Once pledged, it has been known to give many Coridanites a skewed perspective. However, I agree with Doctor McCoy. Other than Mr. Renn's propensity for obscure references and an attachment to Doctor Chapel, I find nothing to suggest his perspective has been skewed to the extent he would eliminate her rival."

"Bones?!" Kirk asked, exasperated.

"Too early to tell, Jim. Coridanite psychology is tricky. I need more time."

"In addition to Mr. Renn," Spock said, "We must consider both motive and opportunity for anyone who had contact with Doctor Seren within forty three hours of his death."

"Why forty three hours?" Kirk asked. "Bones, you said the mutated virus wasn't in his system until after the blood sample that _you_ analyzed was drawn."

"It wasn't. The delivery system for the mutated virus was on a time release. We're using the longest time frame for all known bio-system release mechanisms, especially by use of a medical patch."

"I see. Doctor Chapel has made another request for additional medical staff. I need to know more before I make that decision. Kirk out."

He called engineering and asked Scotty to come to the briefing room.

* * *

"Mr. Scott, have a seat," Kirk said as soon as his chief engineer cleared the swoosh of the door. "Mr. Chekov reports that neither of you is satisfied the Romulans have actually returned to their own sovereign space."

"Chekov's calibrated the ship's sensors on the off chance there might be fluctuations in their cloaking due to the age of the vessels."

Scotty called for the computer to bring up an image of the three Birds of Prey that had recently presented them with eight adrenaline infused hours.

"Captain, all three of the birds are second or third generation design – from the beginning of the alliance with the Klingons. They're more Klingon than Romulan. Most of the Romulan fleet's up to fifth or sixth generation now and they have wee resemblance to the original Birds – why they still call them that I do na' ken."

Kirk leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "And the only thing we know for sure is that we tracked all three ships past the warning buoys, uncloaked, and headed in the direction of Romulan space until they were out of scanner range."

"Aye, they left without cloaking," he said, "and, we were able to track them to where they wanted us to think they were going. That was fair convenient. The engines on the three ships that showed up here've been upgraded and I'd bet my pipes their cloaking device has been too. But there's somethin' else they left b'hind besides a trail a blind dog could follow."

"Their state of the art bio-filters," Kirk finished the thought for him.

"Technology we dinna' have until they just handed it to us on a silver platter. If they wanted to wipe out the rest o' the Torbin population, why would they hang their tams on a virus that was useless against two thirds o' the population and then leave their technology to make it even more certain we could save ourselves? They had us cold and they let us go."

"_Distraction is historically the main ploy of thieves_," Kirk said, more to himself than to Scotty. "Maybe they were targeting the one area of the planet they hadn't plundered. Maybe we robbed them of the Beresium they came for and there's no reason to come back. But. We thought there was no reason for them to show up, in force, less than twenty four hours ago."

"Aye, that's about the size of it. And speaking o' the bio-filters. They're still installed in the forward transporter room. We're still usin' the bloody things."

"You think we should take them off-line?"

"And you must be thinkin' the same. I know it's goin' ta slow things down to a crawl ship to shore but I don't trust the Romulans or their technology as far as I could throw a herd o' targ."

"You checked them out before they were installed."

"Aye, I did and so did Christine. But the more I think about it the more they're startin' to look like wooden horses."

Kirk recognized Scotty's itch-he-can't-scratch posture he had learned to trust long ago.

He had hardly begun contemplating that thought when Inspector Shani Maalouf walked into the briefing room, unannounced. Kirk found it difficult to curb the deflation he felt. It seemed the older he got, the less thrilled he was at the kind of challenge dealing with bureaucrats presented, especially this one. He summoned up just enough enthusiasm to be polite.

"What can we do for you Inspector?" He suppressed the urge to recite protocol.

"Since you not only refuse to detain Doctor Chapel as a suspect in the death of Doctor Seren but have allowed her to assume management of the CERI team, and my staff tell me that I cannot override your decision, at least in the short term, I must insist on completing my mission."

"And that is?"

"To prove that this relief initiative is nothing more than a subversion of the Prime Directive and to see that Doctor Chapel is no longer allowed to perpetrate any further unrestrained interference in the natural development of this planet."

Kirk could barely restrain himself. No matter. The inspector had helped him make a decision he had been toying with for the last few hours. Spock would object but would bow to the logic of it – or the futility of arguing with it.

"I see," he said. "I believe ship's stores had already outfitted you with Torbin apparel for the inspection tour. Sooo…I will meet you in the forward transporter room at oh-seven hundred. If you pack anything that is not on the approved list, it will be confiscated before you leave the ship."

"I know the rules, Captain. I've helped to refine a few of them. I believe my earlier statement confirms my insistence upon them."

"Uh huh. Remember you will be spending the next few days in primitive surroundings - few amenities, dirt floors – make that mud floors – MREs, or worse – a tent if you're lucky, a straw bed if you're really lucky."

"Come now, Captain. Are you attempting to dissuade me with inconveniences? I am not a novice at this. I have conducted field inspections in similar situations and read the instructions for this inspection tour."

"That was before. All bets are off now. You'll have to bunk in the encampment if you intend to follow Doctor Chapel around. An exhausting challenge on a good day."

His outward expression completely belied the ten year old boy inside him jumping up and down with mischievous abandon. Scotty was desperately trying to be inscrutable.

"Very well, Captain," Maalouf said. She turned on her heel and left.

As soon as she had gone, he said, "I didn't even mention the bugs as big as San Francisco wharf rats."

Scotty's gaze was still fixed on the closed doors. "Jim," he said, "I know with Seren dead you canna' do much to stop Christine doing what she has to do, but lettin' Inspector Maalouf follow her around with a murderer on the loose – not to mention the Romulans?"

"It'll be okay," Kirk said. "I have a game plan. And, we'll take along two security guards whose only job will be to protect Inspector Maalouf."

"Sure it will. Looks like the inspector's already in a bit of a snit. Seems to me you're just stickin' your hand in a sehlat's mouth."

As the engineer started to leave, Kirk said, "Scotty."

"Aye?"

"Get us down to the CERI base one more time through those bloody things. Then take them off-line and find out what's making you itch."

"It'll be my pleasure, Captain."

After Scotty left, Kirk sat down in the chair to finish his log, rejuvenated with a renewed sense of purpose.

* * *

"_Captain's Log, __c__ontinued…_

"_I wish I could attribute our extrication from the recent situation with the Romulans to my brilliant strategy or Captain Spock's even more brilliant solution to the Beresium issue. But I agree with Mister Scott. Their exit 'was' fair convenient. We're just as blind now as we were before they showed up. And there is an informer among us._

"_For the foreseeable future, we'll be keeping one eye on the planet and the other over our shoulder. I'm betting the eye on the planet is the one that needs to be the most wide-open."_

* * *

Midday on Q'a'ta'Orbin found Mr. Renn on his way out of the CERI base through the labyrinth of caves that led to Doctor C's quarters outside. He knew Leeza Bridges had been watching him at the dinner gathering, so he had chosen a circuitous route, avoiding the main passageway, lest he run into her wagging finger. Before he had made half the distance, a sickly nausea came over him. Leeza was blocking his path. Although he had underestimated her tracking skills, he had anticipated her mood with painful accuracy. The iron-red flecks embedded in her dark chocolate eyes seared like hot pokers when she was courting righteous indignation.

"Did you think you were being clever?" She lit into him and didn't wait for an answer. "Did you think no one would notice? Whatever you thought baiting Seren would get you is a mystery to me. And what the hell was that show you were putting on in the common room."

He sputtered something unintelligible but Leeza hardly stopped to take a breath. She had started pacing with her hands locked behind her back.

"Were any of us happy with the situation? Absolutely not. I knew you didn't come here for the same reason as the rest of us, but I thought that after three years, you would have come to at least understand something of protocol."

"You're the one who doesn't und…"

"Poor Renn," she said as she stopped pacing and shot her words at him like projectiles. "Bound by a promise you obviously had no intention of keeping. If she has to leave, do you imagine she'll take you with her? She's a Starfleet officer, for crying out loud. You can't follow her around the galaxy like a love-sick tribble!"

"And that's not what you've been doing for five years?" he asked, his voice at an uncharacteristically higher octave.

He regretted the words as soon as they rolled off his lips. His only solace was that she had not mentioned he was a person of interest in Seren's murder.

_As if he would trade any portion of his soul to eliminate Seren. Belgar the Beast of Coridan III, Doctor Mengele, or the Butcher of Imbari, maybe. But not that poor excuse for a Human._

"It's not the same and you know it," she said through lips pinched so tightly he could hardly believe she was able to talk at all. "And I'm standing my post, regardless, not trying to desert it."

"Would you just calm down? You're Starfleet, born and bred. I am not. You have to stand on the wall or people die."

"So," she said, unclasping her hands and dropping her arms limply at her sides. "You have no responsibility here whatsoever?" A weight fell into her voice as if an anvil had been dropped into her throat. "I didn't think I was going to have to stand the wall alone. But if that's the way it has to be, then do whatever you want. You're right. I am Starfleet. And you're a coward."

Without benefit of uniform, Leeza snapped to, turned sharply, and disappeared around the corner, Renn lingering on her after image. His head throbbed. At that moment, he would not have been able to blend into the background if his life depended on it. His brilliantly executed reference had been turned against him by the one person on this hot, grimy, backward planet who understood the irony of it.

* * *

The deep trenches in McCoy's brow indicated a rapidly escalating discussion had simultaneously been going on between him and the Enterprise's First Officer via communicator for more than a few minutes.

"What are you saying, Spock?" McCoy asked, although he understood exactly what Spock was driving at and dared him to verbalize it.

"Mr. Renn is not the only suspect on our very short list who had both motive and opportunity."

"You know, I've always suspected some of your marbles might not have made it all the way to your brain pan in that transfer, but I can't believe that you'd believe Christine could ever be capable of murder."

"It is not a matter of what you or I believe, Doctor. We are merely exploring the obvious first. You have determined Doctor Seren was deliberately infected with the mutated virus. Doctor Chapel is the one who delivered the blood sample to you indicating he had contracted the original strain."

"You aren't saying you plan to arrest her." McCoy's voice was hoarse and threatening.

"I have no such intentions. Mr. Renn's involvement has not yet been ruled out. However, suggestion has been made by a member of the AIG team, who does not know her as we do, that Doctor Chapel openly and quite aggressively opposed being replaced as director of the CERI mission." Spock heard McCoy's teeth clamp shut, but he forged on. "The investigation to prove her innocence must be thorough and unimpeachable."

There were times when even McCoy could find no way to argue with Spock's logic, damn him.

"Does she know? That she's a prime suspect?" he asked.

"Doctor Chapel is an exceptionally perceptive individual. I would be most surprised if the thought has not occurred to her."

"Nevertheless," McCoy said ruefully into the communicator, "I need to talk to her before she has it confirmed by someone else."

"Doctor McCoy, you are essential to the efforts in isolating the actual time Doctor Seren was infected. That should be your primary concern. For the investigation as well as for Doctor Chapel. I will speak to her."

"Right. With your usual tact and sensitivity?"

After only a half micro-second's pause, Spock ended the communication with, "Why yes, Doctor."

* * *

Spock found Christine packing a travel bag in the quarters she kept outside the base compound. She would be returning to the Enterprise shortly through the bio-filters and be beamed directly into the old Romulan barracks on the rim.

The room was small and sparse with a Starfleet issue foot locker at the end of the bed in the right corner, a small writing desk and chair situated in the opposite corner, an enameled trinket box its only occupant. The room could have doubled for the sleeping quarters of a cloistered monk. Five bulging journals on the questionably situated shelf above the desk stood between two opposing gargoyles.

The tiny room had only one round, glassless window through which the room was lit, especially where Christine stood. The garment that had clung like a sheath to her body at dinner had been replaced by a straw colored, mid-thigh length, utilitarian kurta over tight leggings bound up to her knees with the crisscrossed lacings of her traveling shoes.

Without turning around, she stopped her activity when she felt his presence.

No. She had heard his footsteps on the stone floor of the terrace – knew the length of his stride and the weight of his step, heard the rhythm of his breathing and then the familiar, anticipatory silence before he would speak.

She silently mourned the difference.

The door closed and she heard the old bar and sleeve lock engaged.

"I wish to speak with you." he said. His voice came from the spot where he had positioned himself just inside the room.

Slowly closing the flap of the bag, she tied the closure and said, "I'm leaving for the barracks."

He looked down at the bag she had just closed and approached, stopping next to her. "Leaving the CERI compound is inadvisable at this time," he said.

"Nevertheless, I am going."

"We do not yet know why Doctor Seren was killed. You could be putting your life at risk. I urge you to wait until tomorrow morning and travel with the captain and the inspectors."

"I am taking no more than anyone else on this planet and no more than I have for the last three years. So, unless you're here to officially detain me, you don't have the authority to order me to stay."

He had been moving closer as she spoke and stood so close now she sensed the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. Her heart rate accelerated. She had to make herself breathe evenly. She hoped he wouldn't notice the rivulets of cold perspiration running down the back of her neck. When she tried to move away, he moved closer, blocking her path. She put her hand out, making contact with his chest while still avoiding his eyes, so that she both held him and held him back.

"You will lose all respect for me if I play it safe and ignore my duty," she whispered.

Before she could withdraw it, he reached up to enfold her hand within his and pressed it tightly against him. Memories assaulted her by hundreds of bits per second and in an instant vanquished five years of carefully layering all the needs of the here and now over the might have been.

He pulled her hand, still gently cradled within his, away from his chest in what seemed an eternity in slow motion and placed within it a small, button-shaped emergency transponder.

"I am not here to ask you to stay," he said gently. "Only to ask that you take additional care."

Folding her fingers around the tiny device, he closed both his hands around hers. The signal from the receiver in his tunic pocket was barely audible. She wanted to resist, but her body was held fast like the exterior of a gyroscope, unable to give in to her first instinct to run while inside, her mind, heart and soul were spinning at a furious pace. She wanted to plead 'don't do this' but it caught in her throat.

For a few more precious seconds, he held her captive, the receiver still emitting its emergency alarm, until she regained her will and slipped her hand as gently as possible from his. It felt like that dream – the one where you're falling and falling and then wake up just before you hit the ground.

He finally let her go.

Canceling the transponder's signal, she stowed it in the right pocket of her kurta, gathered up a cloak, slung the strap of the bag over her shoulder, and was on her way toward the door before Spock could draw another breath.

"Find Abel's killer," she said when she stopped to unlock the door.

"And if the murderer, or murderers, is among your team?"

"Then, find whoever it is quickly," she said, and left before she had time to choose any other course.

Spock stood motionless, staring at the open, empty door, until he was able to overcome the inertia Christine had left in the tiny room.

As she headed for the base transporter room, the thought that someone might have had a motive to kill Abel was disquieting enough. That it might be someone in whom she had placed her trust was unacceptable.

She dared not dwell on anything else.

* * *

Renn had made it to the veranda outside Doctor Chapel's quarters in time to see her exit and head back into the main cavern that led to the base. He looked around to see if anyone else was around and then started after her, but the sight of Spock exiting her room startled him and he slunk back into the shadows. All but his clothing became part of the background and he waited, and watched impatiently as Spock walked to the entrance and stopped. Was the Vulcan never going to leave?

Finally, when Spock moved into the cavern, Renn darted for it as well, nearly slipping on its increasingly slimy stone steps in his haste to catch up with Doctor Chapel. When Spock took the right corridor, Renn took the left.

Just before reaching the transporter room, Doctor C must have heard his approach and turned to face him.

"You, can't go. Doctor C. Not sa…not safe. But if you have to go, let me go with you," he blurted out between short, jerky breaths.

"Mr. Renn," she said before he could get any more words out of his open mouth. "We've already had this discussion. You are not to leave this base."

"Let me go with you," he pleaded.

"You will remain here and consider yourself lucky not to be confined to your quarters. But if you persist, I can and will make that happen."

He could not afford to be confined. There was already a restraint tightened around his chest, the fear that he might not see Doctor C alive again outstripped the fear that she thought he might be guilty of murder.

* * *

Story Note: Mr. Renn's 'obscure reference' is to a 300 year old Earth movie, _A Few Good Men_


	6. Carnival Rides and Plumbers

_**Chapter Six: Carnival rides and plumbers**_

"Captain Scott?"

Scotty turned to find Leeza Bridges standing behind him with a puzzled look on her face, Renn's attempts to open communications still vibrating in her hand.

"Ach, Lass, you gave me a start."

"Forgive me, Sir, but same here," Leeza admitted, since she had not expected to see the engineer.

She leaned in slightly and, lowering her voice, asked, "Sir. I thought Captain Kirk…" It was then that she realized Captain Scott had not come alone. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

Scotty also leaned in and, just as covertly, answered, "Sure you can." Then, he cleared his throat and, resuming a normal voice level, motioned in the direction of his protégé. "Ahem. Lieutenant Leeza Bridges, meet Ensign Roberto Vasquez."

Ensign Vasquez bowed his head slightly, with a newly-minted-officer persona that set Leeza's teeth on edge.

"It was my understandin' that you knew about Captain Kirk and Inspector Maalouf. But Ensign Vasquez will also be going with you on this…contraption," Scotty said.

Before Leeza could react, James Kirk emerged from the path and appeared on the platform. As a matter of habit as much as anything else, he and Spock had engaged in the usual discussion of risk versus reward. Spock had not put up as much of a fight as he had expected and had returned to the _Enterprise_.

When he reached Leeza and Scotty, the next tramcar was making its way up to them. Scotty waved his hand at the screeching, creaking thing and said to Kirk, "If this escapee from a carnival museum is part o' your plan, I approve. You'll have an interesting trip, hope ye' come back with all your fingers."

Beaming, Kirk said, "I'll do my best."

* * *

That section of the system had only six cars in all, when fully functional, and each was large enough to easily fit seven passengers or their equivalent weight in supplies. The span of fibrous cables stretched over 20 km, and featured a hair-pin turn in its descent before reaching the other end. The tramway had originally been used to carry caliche rich in nitrates from the diversion station, raising the question about whether their use was for explosives or if the mineral had been employed for some product less violent, but not necessarily less lethal, such as fertilizer or medicine.

How and why the tramway was still intact and functional was a puzzle, the solution to which, was still a work in progress. That puzzle, however, was eclipsed by the question of why the Romulan miners had suddenly left Q'a'ta'Orbin, abandoning structures, equipment, technology and whatever limited resources that still remained untapped.

After instructing Captain Kirk, the inspector and the two Enterprise security guards on the safety precautions and seeing them boarded on the car behind them, Leeza came up behind Ensign Vasquez as he stood next to the tramcar in which they would be traveling to the summer encampment.

"The way it works is," she said waving to someone in the tower behind them, "the tramcar moves and the platform stays here."

With a heavy swallow he did not let her see, Vasquez hoisted himself over the edge and into the car, followed by Leeza pitching in her travel bag then herself microseconds before the car lurched and began its short ascent to the rim of the crater where it would start its gradual descent.

Covered only at the top, the car had been fitted with a flap of fabric on its windward side to keep out the early morning mist.

The tramcar bucket was made of wood fibers from now extinct trees that had been slathered with a fibrous, organic material that apparently withstood the wear of time and the elements. The lightness of the bucket cars allowed for the distance to carry six adults not only between turn-around points, but upright supports. The sacks of tuberous roots resembling sweet potatoes, accounted for the weight of four people. The same cargo had also been loaded onto the four cars behind Captain Kirk's group.

The fibrous coating of the buckets and that intertwined the cables was a product of the oolya plant, native only to the particular part of the planet that was now the wasteland just beyond the isthmus that separated the peninsula from the main continent, and one of the few plants of that area to have survived. It had fat, fleshy leaves that sucked up water like a sponge and stored it for the arid winter, fibers that when boiled in water produced an impenetrable glue but when soaked in alcohol rendered them into thread. The Survivors used the leaves of the oolya to make everything from waterproof coating for boats to delicate, silky fabrics. One of the factoids that had stood out to the ensign in the briefing packet was the credit given to this one plant species for the survival of the Torbin during the Romulan occupation.

Leeza got Vasquez' attention with the backside of her left hand on his right forearm which he was using to grip the edge of the bucket in order to stay upright in the car.

"Ensign. Windward side." She had to shout over the din of the wind as she pulled back the flap and pointed out the side of the car, down toward the valley.

The buffeting wind had not yet exceeded the safety threshold, so the undulating mist simply made the view of the island below slightly fuzzy. But Vasquez could make out the mountainous ridge on the backside of the island, the lake beyond and cliffs rising above it beyond that. The front side of the island and the land bridge were tucked under the land below the car. As they began their path over the greatest span between supports, the land below sloped sharply into a crevasse and opened onto a full view of a quaternary caldera comprised of the island, uplifted after the last ultra Plinian volcanic eruption which had formed the newest caldera, the lake that surrounded it, and the three older calderas below the surface of the lake. Smoke still puffed from a smallish cone to the far, east end of the island, adding opacity to its characteristic collar of fog that afforded the island its nickname.

"Call me Vaz," he shouted back, forgetting for a moment that even though she was not in uniform Lieutenant Bridges, respective to chain of command, outranked him. At the same time, the car was approaching a sharp turn.

"What?"

Vaz made a nervous motion with his right hand that indicated 'never mind,' gripped the car's rim again and braced himself. The car swung out, anchoring his feet to the floor for a few seconds and then lurched back again once it had cleared the turn. Bridges moved as if she knew exactly how, and when, to position her body to redistribute her weight.

The tramway carried them into the receiving station at the outer edge of the rim. The approach gave Vaz an overview of the sprawling villages on the hills below and an opportunity to reclaim his stomach.

The station itself was a covered structure, not open as was the platform from which they had departed. A set of tracks were laid down the middle and led out the other side of the station.

To the extreme left was a solid wall of rock. A hydroelectric turbine was located to the extreme right with the diverted river flowing freely through it. The noise it made as it creaked and groaned its circular motion was deafening.

"How much electrical power does this diversion station provide?" he asked Lieutenant Bridges, again shouting to be heard over the din. He hoped this was not the modus operandi for the entirety of his adventure.

"Only enough to support the barracks up here on the rim and the main clinic just below us," she shouted back, then pitched her legs over the side of the car, barely waiting for it to stop. She motioned for him to assist with moving their car out of the way to make room for the car in which Captain Kirk, Inspector Maalouf, and the two security guards had arrived. Once the Captain's group had disembarked, all but Inspector Maalouf assisted her with the offloading of the tuber sacks from the other four cars onto a trolley. With Bridges in the lead, they moved the trolley toward the point where the tracks ended, about 450 yards into the open beyond the station.

Waiting for them at the end was a woman he recognized as Commander Chapel and a young Torbin who seemed hardly more than a teenager. Similar to Humans in appearance, albeit taller and leaner on average, both males and females were nonetheless fairly muscular. This, according to the reports, was due mainly to the manual labor required to survive. But Vaz was operating on a certain amount of guesswork. He had only been able to give the briefing packet a cursory read when, at the last minute, he had been shanghaied by Captain Scott and told he was going along on this little junket. He still wasn't sure why he was here. Some drivel about needing this type of experience under his belt. If he wore a belt. Which he didn't.

In a low frequency whisper and pointing to himself, the boy said, "E'kl, Survivor."

Vaz appreciated the boy's attempt to communicate in standard. Although no frequency-sensitive issues existed, he remembered, from the cursory look at the briefing packet, that the Torbin had developed a universal habit of speaking in whispers – lest the invaders overhear.

Just before beaming down, Mr. Scott had reminded him that if he needed to communicate with the Torbin at all, he would be expected to do so without benefit of a universal translator as a sign of respect and acknowledgement that he was there as a guest and not as a master. Then, after extolling the benefits of this kind of experience for a young and ambitious Starfleet officer, the man had slapped a Torbin language dictionary, in hardcover form no less, into his hand and told him to forge on. He'd had time only to flip through it while standing on the tram platform waiting for the experience to begin.

_The once many different languages, _the author had written in the preface_, have blended, like the variety of Torbin who once peopled the planet, into one cryptographic language – Survivorspeak. With bits and pieces taken from each culture, some of which are now extinct, code developed over three or four generations under Romulan occupation, Survivorspeak is mostly slang with inconsistent grammar and idioms that change meaning within the same context from one usage to the next._

Vaz made a mental note to find the frustrated author and congratulate her on her candor but doubted the dictionary would do him much good.

Without uttering another sound, the boy, E'kl, heaved a sack from the trolley onto his shoulder and proceeded down a path as if the task was his role in some oft-practiced ritual. Several others, including three females, all looking roughly the same age as E'kl, followed suit. Vaz made a move to help but Lieutenant Bridges warned him off, preventing him, he assumed, from committing a breach of protocol.

Reaching the Survivor summer camp, the sea that enveloped the young Torbin and their burdens was wave after wave of makeshift shelters, lean-tos, and tent like structures for as far as Vaz could see and beyond, stuffed to overflowing with nearly eighty nine thousand men, women and children. It was a little over one quarter of the entire surviving population of the planet. He had just been able to make out the edge of the other communities, their pattern more scattered, on their approach to this one.

The structures in the middle of the sea looked sturdier, more permanent, and a bit more thought-out than those in the periphery. The farther out from the center, the more chaotic the design seemed to be. There was neither rhyme nor reason to the type of structure and most, at least from his vantage point, resembled historical images of Native American wikiups.

Leeza suddenly appeared beside him. Lost in the scene, he had no idea how long she had been there.

"This is organized. You should have been here two summers ago," she said quietly, in response to the contorted mix of amazement and incredulity on his face.

Then, she scurried off like an Andorian scamper saying she was headed to the barracks.

He did not follow. He was intrigued by the altercation underway between two nearby Torbin over humungous, sponge-like leaves that one of them was using to construct something resembling a thatched roof over a few skillfully hewn poles. Again, he was struck by the lack of noise during the interchange.

Doctor Chapel had passed the altercation as if it happened every day. Inspector Maalouf looked as if she suddenly realized she had stepped in something and was attempting pretense that she was taking it in stride. Her security detail stood stoically beside her, trying, but failing dismally, not to stand out.

Vaz was gripped with an instant self-consciousness and wondered if he looked the same. Feeling like a Jeffries tube that leads nowhere, he had to find something useful to do. Captain Kirk had not given him any orders or instructions and he was not accustomed to being extraneous.

He could follow Lieutenant Bridges to the isolation barracks where those the Federation team called Edgers were being treated for a highly contagious and virulent disease. Or, he could go with Captain Kirk, who was now trying to keep pace with Doctor Chapel and stay between her and the AIG Maalouf.

Vaz would rather have put his trust in the vaccination he had been given before beaming down and choose the Romulan barracks and Lieutenant Bridges. However, his stomach still somewhere between his throat and where it was supposed to be, and against his better judgment, he followed his captain.

Little notice was paid to the group of visitors as they snaked their way through the narrow passageways. The structures became more permanent looking and the passageways widened. Doctor Chapel finally slowed her pace and then stopped at a small adobe-esque building and entered.

"These will be your quarters while you're here. There is a room for you and Ensign Parva," she said to Inspector Maalouf and pointed to a small flap covered doorway on the right. "We've had an extra cot brought in. Captain Kirk, you and Mr. Tove can bunk out here. You'll find bedrolls in the alcove. Someone will be by later to give you a crash course on the encampment, and show you where the mess and facilities are."

Ensign Tove headed in the direction she had indicated to check it out. The alcove was more like a niche.

Vaz stood as he had when he arrived, odd man out, feeling completely ignored and not at all unhappy about it, until Doctor Chapel turned to him.

"Mr. Vasquez," she said, "I'm afraid you will have to bunk with the Elurian group. It's not much, but two of the group are at the south camp's western edge for the duration so there will be room for the time you're here."

"Yes, Doctor," he said, looking at Captain Kirk for approval. What he got in response was the back of Kirk's hand making a pushing motion and a silent 'go on' on his lips.

Doctor Chapel picked up her bag and started out the door, Ensign Vasquez following close behind. Inspector Maalouf was not going to let her get away that easily.

"Doctor Chapel," she said, without any disguise of the sardonic in her voice.

When Christine stopped short in front of him, Vaz almost collided with her.

"I understand," the inspector continued, "that you perceive a great need for your personal oversight of this temporary situation and that you do not trust in your colleagues' abilities to manage the situation without your personal guidance."

Doctor Chapel took only a nano-second to respond. "I concede that I might deserve your derision for not providing you with my undivided attention, Inspector. However, my colleagues do not. As long as you are here, I am confident I can rely on your professionalism to pay them the respect they are due."

Maalouf's whole demeanor took on that politician's placating tone for which she was infamous. "Perhaps I misspoke. And I certainly have the highest regard and respect for all of the members of the CERI team. However, I expect you must understand that I am here to observe and will make yourself available. Regardless of the level of access I am given, and perhaps as a result of it, whether you remain on Q'a'ta'Orbin for the remainder of the initiative or leave this planet with the Enterprise depends on my evaluation?"

"I understand completely. You can be sure that I will provide you with ample opportunity to observe me, tomorrow. At the moment we are still in emergency response mode to a crisis situation and quite frankly, your presence would impede the process. In the interim, arrangements have been made to provide you with a tour of the main encampment as well as the agricultural sections."

Before the inspector could protest, Doctor Chapel was out the door, with Vaz, gratefully, close on her heels. Kirk followed them out.

Doctor Chapel turned to him and said, "Jim, that's all I can do for the moment."

"I know. I'll keep her at bay for a while. You'll owe me."

"Considering the tab to date," she said, "You may not get a return on your investment."

* * *

Making their way back through the village to the edge of the encampment, Vaz kept looking over his shoulder with the expectation of a venomous inspector hot on their trail. But the path was clear. He followed Doctor Chapel as she veered off to the right and led him into a large thatched structure.

"You can billet here for the time being. There's almost no privacy, but it's all that's available outside the isolation barracks."

"I think I can handle it," he said.

"I'll check back with you tomorrow around this time. Then we'll see if you have the same confidence," she said with a playful smile that erased any evidence of the woman he had seen earlier.

When she dropped her bag and rain cloak unceremoniously onto the nearest empty cot, he asked, "Doctor Chapel, where are _your_ quarters?" Although, he suspected her quarters were now being occupied by his captain, the inspector and two _Enterprise_ security personnel.

Confirming his suspicions, she pulled off her kurta leaving only a thin camisole top to cover her torso. "Like I said, almost no privacy, unless you're here all by yourself."

She sat down on the cot and while shedding her travel boots, introduced him to the woman that had just entered the hut. "Mr. Vasquez, this is Moira, a graduate student in Doctor Gyers' anthropology group."

After a quick acknowledgment of Vaz, Moira turned to Doctor Chapel.

"I was just about to look for you. There are Edgers still coming up from the lakeside. Thirty three more about twenty minutes ago. We administered the first dose of anti-viral immediately and delivered them to Barracks Six."

"Any trouble?" Doctor Chapel asked.

"None so far. Although, it was easier when we were bringing them up under the cover of night."

The doctor acknowledged with a nod as she pulled off the left boot.

"We've still heard nothing from Ted and his Torbin team," Moira said.

"Yes, I know. Allie is on the _Enterprise_ now monitoring the search. They're scanning the area, but the dust storm is one of the worst I've seen. It's wreaking havoc with the magnetic fields. Making scanning hit and miss. If I know Commander Chekov at all, he'll resolve the problem or find a way around it in short order. He has some hot-shot seventeen year old named Ng on his staff that appears to be able to find a speck of pepper in fly crap. In the meantime, A'kr and K'lb are the best wasteland trackers in the community and Ted is an expert spelunker. I'm sure they've taken refuge in a lava tube or cavern somewhere. At the moment, we have other priorities that need our immediate attention. Meanwhile, we need to find some useful employment of Mr. Vasquez' engineering skills."

Moira acknowledged that she understood, and directed her attention to Vaz. "There's the plumbing repair work that still needs to be done in the barracks."

Vaz pondered the importance of plumbing over missing team members but considered that getting him out of the way may be of some import, if only to Doctor Chapel. The consideration, however, did not provide him with any measure of comfort.

Christine laid down on the cot said, "Moira, would you show Mr. Vasquez the mechanical rooms and tell Leeza I'm getting a couple hours sleep. I'll check the situation lakeside after that." Then she closed her eyes.

"And after Mr. Vasquez fixes the plumbing," she added through her closed eyelids, "Ask Leeza to show him that other project that needs his attention."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence regarding the plumbing, Commander. I'll try not to disappoint you," Vaz said, hoping it did not sound as condescending to her as it had to him – that was not his intention.

"You _do_ work for Montgomery Scott, correct?" she asked, smiling with her eyes closed.

"Yes, Commander."

"Then confidence assumed."

* * *

Barracks Seven was on the west end of the Romulan complex. The path to Barracks One and Two, on the extreme east end, led through the rim and down to the outer band of the encampment. The west end backed up to and overlooked the diversion station at one aspect and a straight-down drop to the lakeside below at another. Moira made a circuitous right, skirting the space the opened to the plains directly in front of the seven Romulan barracks structures.

"A straight line might have been more efficient," he said, almost under his breath. "Am I getting the scenic tour?"

"It might be the quicker way, but not necessarily the best way," she said. "It was in the briefing packet."

"Sorry, I didn't have time to get that far. I wasn't even supposed to be here. Another engineering officer vastly more interested in the prospect was next on the rotation for away missions but Captain Scott changed the assignments at the last minute. Now, she is on the Enterprise and I'm here."

He caught a glance at the back of Moira's shaking head. Great. Now he looked like a fifth wheel and sounded like a whiner.

On the way, they passed the roof of the diversion station where they had disembarked the tram. The Romulan barracks were prefab, meant to be disassembled and reused. Of that Vaz was certain. Yet here they stood.

When they stepped inside Barracks Four, he found a scene quite different from the buildings' sterile shells. They emerged into a vestibule thirty metersS square. The vestibule had entrances to corridors on each side parallel to the inner shell that made up the core of the structure.

Moira stopped and said, "This is as far as I go." She nodded toward the left corridor entrance. "All the plumbing is in that access corridor. The only tech we have left got the water running a couple of days ago before all hell broke loose but he said it was a temp fix at best. I believe a couple of rubber bands and some oolya glue were involved. Now, it will be more than just an inconvenience if it goes down again. You'll find tools in there and some parts. Unless you're fluent in Romulan, I'm afraid you'll have to figure a lot of it out for yourself."

"You don't have your own engineer? Wait, that was probably in the briefing packet too."

"We did," she said, and finally cracked a smile. "The IG's office determined an engineer was now extraneous and reassigned her six months ago – she left with the last supply ship. She scribbled translations on whatever she could and left a journal slash manual. It's in there too. But we didn't think we would have a great need for it again did we? Plans were to blow these buildings to hell and gone when the relief team leaves. Sort of a parting gift to the Torbin."

Moira crossed the room to the console in the corner and spoke into the comm.

Within a few seconds, Leeza appeared on the other side of the isolation barrier. Behind her, he could see several Enterprise medical techs working in the ward. Moira shared with Bridges where Doctor Chapel would be for the next few hours and why she had brought the ensign, adding that he was not exactly thrilled to be there.

Vaz winced.

Lieutenant Bridges acknowledged him with a thinly veiled glower and asked Moira, "Any news?"

Moira shook her head. Before leaving the barracks, she said, "Good luck," but Vaz was not sure if it was meant for him or for Lieutenant Bridges. "And Leeza, she asked if you would introduce the Mr. Vazquez to that other project."

"Understood. But first, plumbing," the lieutenant said, pointing toward the corridor. "That way."

"Right. I'll just get to it then."

* * *

Story Note: Leeza Bridges' obscure reference is a paraphrased reference to another 300 year old Earth movie, A League of their Own - thanks to Gillian Taylor's Christmas presents to her friend, Christine Chapel - a playlist of her favorite old Earth flicks (some of which she had to catch up after she was catapulted into the 23rd century).


	7. Time does not bring relief

_**Chapter Seven: "Time does not bring relief…"**_

The cot lacked everything that would contribute to comfort, save a place to lie down. No matter, sleep would not come easily for Christine in any case. She had anticipated as much the moment she touched him. The memories he wanted were buried deep.

He had taught her too well.

All she could hear now was his mind-voice pleading, "Release me. I beg of you, release me…" 

* * *

_"Time does not bring relief; you have all lied"_, by Edna St. Vincent Millay


	8. Storm

_**Chapter Eight: Storm**_

News had spread quickly among the Survivors about the sudden disappearance, and then, just as sudden reappearance, of the CERI team. One of the only cohesive elements among the different groups of Torbin Survivors was their system of swift, and accurate, dissemination of information.

Christine's twofold, but single-minded, agenda for the day was to utilize that communication system and make herself as visible to as many in the encampment's Elders and Shamans, or medical women, as possible, while not running afoul of Assistant Inspector Maalouf.

Having to deal with her was an eventuality she knew could not be avoided in the long-term. However, she planned to avoid it for as long as was possible in the short-term.

The path from the thatched structure, in which she had unsuccessfully tried to nap, to lakeside would take Christine past the main medical clinic in the heart of the village on the vast terraced hillside overlooking the lake.

'Medical' clinic was stretching the definition quite a bit. The structure resembled something like the dubiously named medical hut in the POW camp on banks of the Kwai.

There existed a steep learning curve.

Rudimentary as it was in design and execution, the clinic was not part of the hodge-podge of makeshift dwellings that comprised the South Camp proper. It was semi-permanent, with open terrain all around it. The facility was actually several clapboard sided hut structures and open-air receiving areas. This had been an innovation not by the CERI team, but by the Torbin.

Her approach was uphill from the rear of the clinic. As she ascended the trail she was seized by an instantaneous, razor-sharp pain that radiated from behind her left ear over the top of her head to the right ear followed by wave after wave of throbbing sensations. The initial pain nearly crippled her and she felt her body slump to one knee.

Images she could neither identify nor capture flashed into her consciousness. The rhythmic pulsations made her nauseous.

Then the pulsations ceased as swiftly was they had begun. The aged chronometer she carried indicated that only seconds had passed. Her mind, however, registered an episode lasting much longer, perhaps days or months.

When the siege had passed, she pulled herself back up to standing position and tested her equilibrium. After she was assured that she would not falter again, she continued her ascent to the clinic and resolved to test herself for an inner ear infection when she returned to the barracks.

_Although not outside the realm of possibility, she could have developed some infection in spite of the standard precautions. Odd that nothing was indicated on the medical exam Seren had given her just a three days ago._

* * *

Moira led the tour group, consisting of Captain Kirk and a surly AIG Maalouf, as well as the obligatory Tove and Parva, to a place on the rim that offered a sweeping view of several of the easy falling waterfalls that emptied into the lake basin on its East side.

"Serene, isn't it?" Moira said. "That'll change quickly enough."

There was an unveiled concern in her voice that Kirk attributed to the urgency of finding her missing colleague.

"In thirty or so hours, the system, there," Moira said, pointing in the direction of the building storm, "will collide with the dust storm over the plains. A thick, fertile gravy will fall onto the plain just beyond this ridge and replenish farmland to supplement the food stores when the Torbin return to fishing.

"Before that, though, the rivers flowing into the lake on the east side will swell and dump several trillion gallons of fresh water in the lake within a few short hours. By the time it reaches the villages, most of the rain will have dissipated, but the flooding will have already occurred and half of the island will by submerged for weeks until natural drainage through the various lava tubes carry the overflow out to sea."

"And your missing field team may have taken refuge in those tubes?" Kirk asked.

"Yes, Sir."

AIG Maalouf stepped forward silently to observe the scene.

Moira asked, "Do you have any questions, Inspector?"

"I do not," Maalouf said, and stepped back away from the rim.

Moira led the group, by the same foot trail, back to the barracks where she knew Leeza Bridges was awaiting their arrival with some trepidation. Doctor C had ordered complete cooperation when in any interaction with Inspector Maalouf and Leeza, as well as the anthropology team, would carry out that order. Today, it was Leeza's task to be the buffer.

"_And likely for the best, as Doctor C's fuse was shorter than usual since the Romulans showed up._ _No need to add fuel to this particular fire_," Moira thought.

Before reaching the first barracks, Arushi Dhaliwahl, one of the CERI medical techs, ran out of the isolation barracks and breathlessly rushed towards the group.

"Ted…and his team…are back. Mei and Petra just brought them into the trauma unit." She stopped to take another breath in the low oxygen atmosphere. "I sent T'kl for Doctor C."

Without having to be asked, Arushi said, "The two Torbin are being treated for minor injuries. Ted's alive, but critical."

Moira unceremoniously left her charges and quick-stepped the distance to Barracks One, which had been converted, within the space of twenty four hours, to a M.A.S.H.-esque trauma unit.

* * *

A/N: The next few (higher word count) chapters are crucial to the story and will take a little longer to complete and fact check, possibly two weeks down the line for next chapter. I hope you are enjoying the read so far.


	9. The Second Law of Thermodynamics

_**A/N: **This chapter has been enhanced with an additional scene that, while it does not necessarily advance the story-line, provides some additional insight into the surviving Torbin culture._

_**Chapter Nine: The second law of thermodynamics**_

_Entropy (disorder) increases..._

**Torbin Summer Encampment – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Kirk ordered Tove and Parva to accompany Inspector Maalouf back to their billet and stay there until further notice.

"Captain," Inspector Maalouf protested. "If Doctor Chapel is to attend, I insist that I be granted access. We have already wasted half a day sight-seeing."

**CERI Headquarters – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Renn had been orphaned at the Human equivalent of ten years. Although sociologically advanced enough to have made been admitted to the Federation, Coridan was marginally so. Life for him on Coridan was not easy. An orphan living in a mining colony offered little. He had left his home planet as soon as the opportunity arose, and acquired certain 'skills.'

He was a procurer of that which could not be obtained otherwise.

Even in the twenty third century, his unique skills had been invaluable to medical teams from the Ruby G. Bradley on planetary support duty. Ships were sleek and fast and always going in harm's way. The known galaxy was vast and expanding; the gap between the frontier and available supplies, personnel and equipment expanded with it. At any given time, the Bradley could have up to thirty teams scattered over as many mining colonies, science and anthropological expeditions, or longer, more complex assignments such as planets in distress.

As if the expanding chasm between the frontier and mainstream Federation attention were not enough, bureaucracy and politics added to the mix often required Mr. Renn's unique skills. On the frontier, help was rarely just one easy warp drive away. Such had been the case with Q'a'ta'Orbin.

Now, Renn paced his quarters at CERI HQ, unable to unburden himself of the guilt and shame. He had played right into Seren's manipulative hands.

"_Evil will always triumph because good is dumb,"_ he thought, haranguing himself for being so gullible as to have trusted the devil.

He was going to have to come clean now and risk whatever happened to him. He could not live with himself if his stupidity brought harm to Doctor C. She was the only person he had ever known who had immediately recognized his worth and had given him a chance to prove himself. And now, he had let her down. The nay-sayers on his home planet who never thought he would amount to anything would be gloating if they knew. Worse, he wondered if they had been right.

**Outside the Romulan Barracks – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Captain James Kirk had no sooner been given the ultimatum by AIG Maalouf when a small mob of Torbin Survivors came over the rim. He was struck by the absurd juxtaposition of the non-vocal, almost silent, young Torbin carrying rocks and other, nondescript, projectiles.

Tove and Parva acted immediately to herd Inspector Maalouf into one of the barracks buildings. He quickly weighed the mandate to limit interference against the safety of his crew, the CERI complement and the Edgers who were being treated for viral infection within the protection of the old Romulan barracks complex.

He had been told that the fear the place had been ingrained into the culture that remained. What was closing in fast was not afraid. It was charged with the anger and rebellion of youth.

**CERI Headquarters – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

CERI headquarters was all but deserted except for the activity underway in the path lab, which was the most well equipped department at HQ. So far it had been spared the stripping of personnel, services and supplies by the CERI Quartermaster's office. When the path lab was threatened, Christine had gone over Maalouf's head and appealed to both Admiral Cartwright and Ambassador Sarek to investigate the discrepancies.

Soon after she had been replaced as Director of the mission. The council committee with Prime Directive oversight had originally determined a Starfleet officer in charge of the mission was not a violation of the Prime Directive. However, new elements had been introduced into the Inspector General's office that had obliged the committee to re-examine their earlier ruling. While that was undertaken, she was replaced by a non-Starfleet physician, namely Abel Seren. Christine had not had any contact with Abel in six and a half years and had not been allowed to review the vetting process prior his arrival.

McCoy and Susan Nuress, had been working for nearly eight hours reconstructing the last fifty or so hours or Abel Seren's life. While Nuress was close to isolating the exact time the medical patch had been applied, McCoy was combing the medical files for anything that would tell them how it was managed.

Mr. Renn had already interrupted the work several times, concerned about whether anyone had heard from Doctor Chapel and her party. McCoy had summarily dismissed him, making comment to Doctor Nuress that _"loyalty is admirable, but Mr. Renn is beginning to present all the earmarks of obsession." _Although Susan assured him that Renn was harmless, he climbed higher on McCoy's list of probable suspects.

**Outside the Romulan Barracks – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Knowing the horde of young Torbin was quickly advancing on Kirk, Parva left Inspector Maalouf in the relative safety of the barracks with Tove and sprinted back outside to aid her captain only to find that the crisis had already been defused. The elders had intervened and were standing their ground, along with a few other young Torbin Survivors, in a line between the angry mob and the Romulan barracks.

First Elder stood as erect as he could for his advanced age and pounded the blunt end of his long, hand hewn wooden staff into the ground with enough force that satellite spatter same up from the ground around the impact zone. Kirk, reminded suddenly of Aaron's rod, was impressed by the ancient Torbin's strength and resolve.

The mass of bodies, having stopped where they were when the elder made his appearance, still held the weapons of opportunity they had acquired. Assuming a normal timbre in his voice, First Elder began to speak, not in standard but in the original tongue of his fathers. The sound of his voice resonated in the silence and could be heard within the walls of the barracks and inside the makeshift operating theatre where Doctor Chapel and Nurse Bridges endeavored to keep Ted Bingham alive.

Ensign Vasquez, slack-jawed and with Torbin language compendium in hand, joined his captain and Ensign Parva. He needn't have bothered bringing the book. The words First Elder spoke were not Survivorspeak. Like a cantor, he delivered his message in song to a rapt, and now docile, audience.

**Romulan Barracks – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

In the small curtained off area outside the makeshift surgery, her head between her knees, Christine sat on a cargo container and thanked the great whatever for not being able to talk Leeza Bridges out of remaining with her on Q'a'ta'Orbin.

Christine's first association with, then Ensign, Leeza Bridges was when the twenty year old had been assigned as her assisting in surgery six years ago. The professional association had grown into a trusted kinship. In spite of Christine's efforts to dissuade her, Leeza had followed Christine back to the Ruby G. after Earth had survived the devastating impact of the whale probe.

When Christine had faltered during Ted Bingham's surgery, Leeza had stepped in. Her quick, decisive actions had insured both his survival and his recovery.

Faltered. That was a gross understatement. She had become catatonic in the middle of the operation. The wave of pain that had seized her felt like spikes being shoved into her brain, and then the lost sense of time and reality – vague, rapidly disintegrating memories of another life.

When she could manage to stand without losing the minimal amount of food she had been able to manage between crises, she lifted herself up cautiously, and headed for the only unconverted area of Barracks One left to the CERI team. Leeza appeared at the door, still in surgical scrubs, just as Christine was drawing three vials of her own blood.

"What the hell happened?"

"I wish I knew," Christine said, handing the vials to Leeza and pointing to the portable O2 unit Leeza had brought with her. "It is _not_ oxygen deprivation."

"You had a full exam and blood panel not…"

"Abel missed something. I want you to do the analysis. And keep it to yourself, for now. I need to know what it is before I can decide what to do about it."

"Understood." Leeza wanted to tell her she needed to rest, but knew that would be a waste of time and oxygen. "But first, I think you should see this."

Leeza held out a tube made out of a substance she did not recognize – it was definitely not oolya. The tube was approximately 33 centimeters long and 10 centimeters in diameter and encrusted with the fossilized remains of ancient sea creatures.

"Ted had this hidden under his travel cloak when they brought him in. I think you'll want to talk to him when he regains consciousness."

* * *

A/N: _"Evil will always triumph because good is dumb..."_ is another of Renn's references to 20th Century film - Mel Brooks' "Spaceballs"


	10. and you let her go

_**Chapter Ten: ...and you let her go**_

**Above Q'a'ta'Orbin - Aboard Enterprise-A**

The observation deck had long been Spock's chosen retreat for meditation. But the serenity that meditation usually provided eluded him. Instead, his thoughts were of the woman who was now at the center of a murder investigation and possibly in danger of being the next target.

He had respected the distance she was clearly keeping between them even if he had not fully accepted it. Her aloof behavior towards him was understandable. That she had become the professionally distant, unbendable Commander Chapel who would not acquiesce was disquieting.

Captain Scott often remarked that Christine _'was as stubborn as the day is long.'_ The last five years had been riddled with very long days. All his attempts to reach out to her had been rejected.

_They_ had been..._he_ had dared to be – happy. She was the only woman with whom he had ever been close that did not want to mold him into something else. She loved him, appreciated him, just as he was. More than that, _because_ of what he was. Of that much he was certain. She had asked nothing in return but to be allowed to love him in peace and privacy.

Less than one day ago, as he had held her hand within his, she had let down that closely guarded wall she had built between them and he sensed some shred of communion that remained; and her astonishment that, among the ruins, buried under the rubble, a foundation endured. For those few seconds when he was able to reach her, to plead with her to release him, they had touched with a closeness she had been denying him since Genesis radically interrupted their lives. And then, the moment was gone, and she rebuilt the wall between them.

"_I did not want to be parted from you, Christine, nor do I wish to be parted from you now. You would understand that if you had allowed the bond. I will continue my attempts to make you understand, as I made no pledge, promise or vow to do otherwise."_

As much as he desired the reestablishment of the synergy they once enjoyed, his more immediate concern was to protect her. Although he had perceived a connection while they were in physical contact, he could not sense one now.

She was on the surface of the planet that loomed in the viewport, a bland, pockmarked dead zone that covered most of the planet with a miniscule area of lush green between the breaks in the heavy cloud cover directly below the Enterprise. The lightning in the fast approaching storm could be seen from orbit. He knew her coordinates within a millimeter of accuracy and feeling for the transponder receiver in his tunic pocket, hoped she would use it if she needed help. Just as he was contemplating that his only option was to persevere in the face of her abject stubbornness, the observation deck comm chirped his call signal.

"Spock here."

"_Spock," said Alisa Gyers' voice. "I've been in communication with the surface. There is something I need to discuss with you as soon as possible."_

"We have a briefing scheduled for 09:30 hours."

"_Captain, it can't wait for the briefing. You'll understand when you hear what I have to say."_

"Is it not something you can relate over the comm?" he asked.

"_No. It is not. I need to tell you in person...and in private." There was an urgency in her tone that he recognized from their years serving together on the same ship._

"...Very well," he said, "I will meet you in the Captain's forward briefing room in ten minutes."

"_Thank you. Gyers out."_

* * *

Allie met Spock at the turbo lift on the command deck and walked with him toward the briefing room. Before they reached the double doors, Inspector Tark rounded the corner of the nearest bulkhead and approached them, determined consternation splashed across his rosy face.

"Captain, I wish to speak to you," Tark bellowed, and with an intake of air, blew himself up like a helium balloon.

"Inspector, I can provide you time at 11:30 hours. However, may I ask how you were able to gain access to the command deck? It is prohibited to unauthorized personnel. And, I do not recall your being authorized."

"It is not important how I got here, Vulcan, only that I have a grievance to air."

"I must disagree, Inspector. It is imperative that I know how you gained access to a restricted part of this ship, as it represents a gross breach in security."

"It is the only way to speak with you. I have attempted to gain audience with you several times in the last twenty two hours but you have not made yourself available. My only conclusion is that you are deliberately avoiding a representative of the Inspector General's office."

Allie said, "I'll wait for you inside," and ducked into the briefing room.

"I will be with you shortly, Doctor."

"I have been on duty for most of those twenty two hours," Spock said, turning back to Tark. "That duty requires I schedule tasks by priority, and forgive me Inspector, but grievances are not currently at the top of my list of priorities. As you can see, I have a prior meeting with Doctor Gyers. However, if you feel you have a legitimate grievance, please contact my yeoman and I will give the matter all the attention it deserves when we meet at 11:30 hours."

Tark nearly rolled into a puffy pink ball at Spock's obvious efforts to belittle his importance when the bridge access doors opened and two security guards approached them.

"Ensign," Spock said, "please see that Inspector Tark finds his way off the command deck and notify Lieutenant Jahar to report to me immediately."

"Yes, Sir."

Tark could be heard protesting the lack of protocol evident in how reprehensibly he was being treated and hurling veiled threats of reporting it to the Inspector General herself even as the doors to the turbo lift were closing.

* * *

Once in the briefing room, Spock allowed himself to relax, only then understanding that he had been stiffened with tension. Tellarites were easily angered by nature but Tark, as Jim would say, took it to a whole new level. He sensed something more than a natural predilection for irascibility in Tark.

"I took the liberty," Allie said, as she sat in the chair to Spock's left, "of calling security. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Doctor. I anticipated it."

Spock's call sign chirped over the comm again.

"Spock here."

_"Lieutenant Jahar, Captain. Ensign Park said you wanted me to report - I assume in connection with how Inspector Tark gained access to the command deck?"_

"Yes, Lieutenant. Please investigate and report back to me as soon as your inquiry is completed?"

_"Already on it, Captain."_

Spock ended the connection and turned his attention back to Allie Gyers. "I apologize for the interruptions, Doctor. What is it you wished to discuss?"


	11. The expendability factor

_**Chapter Eleven: The expendability factor**_

**The Island – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Within the dense layer of fog existed an ecosystem that had not been seen on Q'a'ta'Orbin for more than a century. Lush foliage clung to the branches of trees as tall as the behemoth conifers on the forest moon of Septus with hard, resilient bark. Bioluminescent worms suspended themselves above the ground on sticky, nearly invisible strands as if they were floating in mid-air.

Though appearing, from the exterior of the collar of fog, that the majority of the island was covered to the peak of the highest point, the violet sky shone through and any observer within the Shroud would have a clear, and unobstructed, view of the mainland from every shoreline if it were full daylight.

An undulating rumble of thunder, muffled only by basaltic rock, shook the ground on the surface and interrupted the otherwise eerie quiet. Most of those known as Edgers had evacuated from the outer regions before the land bridge had been submerged below Lake A'bn's waters. The rest lay dead around the perimeter of the fog.

Under the surface, the sound of tittering insects was drowned out by water, amplified by the cavern's acoustics, falling over a cliff somewhere deep underground. Within the indigenous sounds of the cavern, the unnatural trill of a transporter beam cut through a section of the cavern near a skylight exit to the surface. The sparkle of quantum particles being reassembled danced along striated walls and threw patterns of light onto the ceiling above.

The coordinates programmed into the bio-filters before transfer from the Vekora to the Enterprise had deposited her too close to the cavern entrance. She could see the hole less than a kilometer away. Climbing further into the cavern through jagged limestone to escape detection, she navigated her way between thin, hollow stalactites dripping like soda straws away from the light coming through the hole in the cavern's toothy roof. From cuts on her legs and hands, darkish green droplets fell into the water, diffusing into the underground stream that rushed below the ledge.

The underbelly of the island was riddled with tubes and caverns that had been chiseled out or torn through by both Pahoehoe and A'a flows over the last several hundred thousand years of Q'a'ta'Orbin's geological record. The rock was markedly variant, some with ribbon-like formations and others, which were spiny and rough, were laden with anorthosite infused clinker. The ionized energy shield over the portion of the island above provided a natural barrier to detection from the Enterprise - and the Vekora.

Low pools that normally comprised the cavern floor were already rising above their winter levels. Water spilled over ledges into deep holes and into an abyss of darkness, the runoff from upper plateaus mixing with seawater from connecting lava tubes. The soft, Torbin-styled boots she had been issued quickly became soaked and heavy. The annual mean temperature stayed around 30 degrees, so the light cloak also gave her discomfort and every reason to curse the Vekora's quartermaster.

**IRW Vekora**

Captain Malok stood over a console that illuminated his sallow face and became aware of Vartok clearing the bridge of the support crew. When the bridge was empty, save Vartok and himself, only then did he turn to his security chief.

"Captain, if all has gone according to plan, Sub-commander Farus should be on the surface."

"Can you locate her biosignal?

"No, Sir, I cannot."

"Excellent. Excellent. We were correct about the interference created by the energy shield. And the Federation ship will also be as blind."

"You are positive the Enterprise has not detected our presence?"

Vartok bent over his own console. "Yes, Captain Malok. They have given no indication that they have detected our impulse signature. Shall I begin the time sequencer?"

"Yes, Vartok. But not the one originally planned. Fortune has smiled on us this day. We will begin a new sequence...one that will bypass the convoluted and contrived method of retrieval proposed by Doctor Seren."

"I do not understand, Captain Malok. How have the mission parameters changed?"

"Our monitoring of the communications between the surface of that planet and the Starfleet vessel have produced a prize greater than rubies," Malok said as he invoked the console to bring forth an image.

Over his screen floated a holographic representation of an 8cm by 30cm cylinder. While they watched, another cylinder, and then another, telescoped from inside the outer shell. All three cylinders were made of ancient bone and etched with intricately carved inscriptions. Vartok stared at the object, mesmerized.

"Enterprise has provided the key." Malok said.

"And Sub-commander Farus' mission on the surface?"

"Unnecessary now. We can find what we need without her." He looked at the question on the face of the very Human Vartok. "She knew the risk. And, to put it in your Earth terms, she has been a thorn in my paw since this mission was conceived. And, now, it is plucked."


	12. Of dreams and dreamers

A/N: Terminology:

Agminated: Clustered in groups / Eukaryotic: single cells with membrane around nuclei / Oncotic: prelethal pathway leading to cell death by cellular swelling, organelle swelling, blebbing and increased membrane permeability – may result from toxic agents / Autophagy: Type II cell death – degradation within the dying cell.

Bear with me, I was as true as possible to what a hasty, but informative, theoretical framework would look like under the circumstances.

**Chapter Twelve: _Of dreams and dreamers_**

'The time has come,' the Walrus said,

'To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

And whether pigs have wings.'

_The Walrus and the Carpenter_ \- Lewis Carroll

**Above Q'a'ta'Orbin - Aboard Enterprise-A**

The holo image of the telescoped cylinder, translucent in a delicate celadon color, floated over the surface of the briefing room table. The theoretical framework of a hypothesis lay before Spock. Although hastily prepared, it still bore a familiar organizational style.

* * *

_**The Sacred Q'e - **__**Morphological and Exo-anthropological Summary**_

_**Stardate 9103.26**_

_**Prepared by: **_

_Christine Chapel, M.D. Endocrinology and Internal Medicine, PhD Exobiology , B.S. and M.S. Medical Archeology, Commander Starfleet, CERI Team assigned Q'a'ta'Orbin_

_**Principal Contributors:**_

_Corem Zed: M.D. Internal Medicine, B.S. and M.S. Exobiology, B.S. Evolutionary Ecology, CERI Team assigned Q'a'ta'Orbin_

_Leeza Bridges: Nurse, Lieutenant Starfleet, CERI Team assigned Q'a'ta'Orbin_

_Alisa Gyers: B.S, M.S., PhD Socio-cultural Anthropology, Tenured Professor, Elurian Institute_

**Additional Contributors – Graduate Students, Elurian Institute:**

Theodore Bingham_: B.S. and M.S. Historical Archeology, B.S. and M.S. Exo-linguistics_

_Moira Cooh-Alca Nam: B.S. and M.S. Medical Archeology, B.S. Forensic Anthropology_

_Calid Muhammed: B.S. and M.S. Cultural Exo-anthropology_

_Grace Allen-Chen: B.S. and M.S. Cultural and Historical Exo-anthropology _

_Vasily Federov: B.S. and M.S. Exo-archeology_

_Tam Ingram: B.S. and M.S. Cultural and Historical Exo-anthropology_

_Garrett Pence-Davies: B.S. and M.S. Cultural and Historical Exo-anthropology_

_Kaleb Garr: B.S. and M.S. Cultural Exo-anthropology_

_**Ethnography – Brief Summary**__:_

_Currently, the Torbin people known as Survivors are a population of 252,345 at last census (Stardate 9012.05) comprised of five identified cultural groups that have formed an alliance through both acculturation and transculturation as a direct result of invasion from an alien species._

_For a more detailed ethnography, refer to Report – A. Gyers, R915, Stardate 8906.13._

_Little is known, other than through subjective accounts of Survivor-Torbin, about the cultural group, known as Edgers, who formerly inhabited the outer regions of the island at the center of Lake A'bn. Edgers being currently treated for __E718T__ (Zebov-Torbin) number 3,432. Initial information from recovered patients indicates the death rate for Edgers immediate to the release of E718T and prior to evacuation to mainland may be .297203 to 1._

_**Empirical Evidence**__:_

_Archeological/Medical__:_

_Cellular corpses of single cell eukaryotic protozoa were found agminated on cavern walls located under Lake A'bn. In preliminary examinations and analysis by Doctors C. Chapel and Doctor C. Zed, the mechanism of cell death appeared to have been oncotic damage to DNA of the organisms without autophagy. Deposits of Anorthosite near the cluster indicate extraction methods using a highly concentrated hydrofluoric acid.__*****__ A comparative testing of possible base toxins natural to Q'a'ta'Orbin revealed none with properties that would have resulted in death to cell due to increased cell membrane permeability._

_Preliminary autopsy of organisms, nuclear decay of hydrofluoric acid residue, and carbon dating of basaltic deposits to which deceased cells were attached indicate death occurred between three and five years prior to discovery and testing. Samples of cellular remains and initial analysis were forwarded to the xenobiology laboratory on Starbase Twelve for a more detailed morphological study._

_Eight months ago, a discovery of a different sort was made. A Torbin child was found wondering on the plateau. None of the elder houses claimed her and most regarded her with revulsion as they believed she was obviously Edger. Note that, from remains of Edgers found drowned and floating to the Survivor side of the shoreline, we have confirmed Edger-Torbin are physiologically identical to Survivor-Torbin with the same basic gene structure. The only difference between Edgers and Survivors is environmental, cultural and historical influences on their interaction, or lack thereof._

_No one in any of the encampments from the lakeside villages to the nomadic wanderers of the plateau would care for the child. As we were concerned that she would be harmed if there was on intervention, the child, named T'kp was housed in the barracks. _

_In the course of caring for the child, Doctor C. Chapel and Nurse L. Bridges performed a routine medical examination. T'kp appeared to be a normally developed Torbin female approximately twelve Torbin years of age with no history of having contracted __E718T__. _

_She also lacked evidence of all other childhood diseases documented for Survivor-Torbin. Therefore, she was confirmed, as Edger-Torbin. Lack of access to other Edgers or their immediate environment limited further study for comparison._

_Although healthier than Survivor-Torbin children, T'kp, being mute, communicated through gesture, not language. The absence of ventricular or vocal folds is attributable to abnormal development during in-utero gestation rather than any procedure that involved removing same after birth._

_However, an organism, not found any Survivor individual, was attached to the microtubules in her brain neurons. Due to lack of access for further study, it is unknown if the organism is an anomaly or common among Edgers._

_Comparative analysis confirmed the organism found in the brain of T'kp and cell corpses in the cavern under Lake A'bn are identical in structure and composition._

_Technical__:_

_Although the entire planet is subject to magnetic shifts, approximately 92% of the aforementioned island is subject to chaotic magnetic field shifts which defy scanning from orbit or from any accessible point on the surface of Q'a'ta'Orbin. We now know that within the magnetic shifts, there is a stable energy field that is not likely to be naturally generated._

_Archeological/Artifactual:_

_Initial find__: An artifact was located in a remote area of the planet in what we believe was an archive. The object ultimately provided a guide to translation of ancient script._

_Subsequent find__: An excavation in the Q'lr region of Q'a'ta'Orbin produced several codices, one referencing the journey of Q'ee. The journey contained many of the elements in the Q'e legend identified as Legend Five below._

_Stardate 9103.20 find__: An artifact was found in a cavern being investigated by T. Bingham – holo image accompanies this brief. The inscriptions, a portion of which Mr. Bingham translated while awaiting a break in the storm, make direct reference to the Q'e as 'wanderers' and 'dream guides.'_

_**Anecdotal Evidence**__:_

_All five subdivisions of Survivor-Torbin have related legends, epics, cautionary tales, and avowed histories (told by elders) of, or related to, the Q'e. All carry a common element – the Q'e inhabit the mountain on the island at the center of Lake A'bn._

_The Q'e (pronounced as 'key' and translated to Federation standard as the 'dreamers') are currently both revered and feared as sacred beings. The loss of roughly 78% of actual Torbin history has skewed any other perception of the Q'e that may have existed prior to Romulan invasion._

_In the absence of historical records, legend is the only basis of study and comparison available._

_Synopsis - Legend One__:_

_The Q'e are beings descended from the heavens to give laws to the Torbin through their dreams._

_Synopsis – Legend Two__:_

_The Q'e are N'ya (fairy folk) gifted with the power of bestowing great wealth or great hardship and have been blamed for the invasion. It should be noted that this is the most diverse legend in that it includes stories about children being abducted – comparable to 'changeling' stories in 19__th__ century Irish folklore of Earth. In the case of the Torbin version, the children return to their people possessed._

_Synopsis – Legend Three__:_

_The Q'e are 'the givers of dreams.' Interpretation of this is somewhat hindered by the lack of individual stories that feed the belief system. One interpretation has been postulated that, as this is a legend pervasive among the elders of all five cultural groups, the Q'e are a closely guarded secret. Note that the elders have declared the island, and especially the central area of the mountain known as the Shroud, as forbidden. The elders' word is law for all existing Survivor groups._

_Synopsis – Legend Four__:_

_The Q'e are ground dwellers who rise from the depths of what the Torbin perceive as purgatory. A twist on this legend includes newly added stories that assign responsibility to the Q'e for ridding them of the Romulan invaders on the one hand and on the other, that the Q'e were responsible for the pandemic that ravaged the population. Similar to many parables from Earth, Rigel and Ceti III, the pandemic was punishment for the Torbin's inability to rid themselves of the invaders._

_Synopsis – Legend Five__:_

_In ancient times, one Torbin, a wanderer named Q'ee, came upon the island and discovered the meaning of all existence and became one with the ground and the air and the heavens. She stayed for a thousand years. When she emerged, she brought the meaning of life and healing to all Torbin._

_**Implications**__:_

_Both empirical and anecdotal evidence indicates a connection between the organism found in the brain of T'kp, the legends of the Q'e, and the existence of an energy field that encompasses center portion of the island._

_**Other Facts in Evidence**__:_

_Romulan miners abandoned Q'a'ta'Orbin 3.5 years ago, shortly after the pandemic reached the area around lake A'bn. Attempts at extraction of Anorthosite by means of toxic substance hydrofluoric acid in the area where organism remains were found appears to have caused cell death. The mining of the Anorthosite appears to have been abandoned at the same time as the departure of Romulan surface miners._

_How Zebov-Torbin pandemic was released and proliferated on the planet is not yet confirmed. See report S. Nuress regarding proliferation of pandemic._

_Instances where supply orders that reflected not what had been requested, but what had been inventoried on the supply ships' manifest. There was no accounting for shortage or omissions of ordered items, most crucial to continuing work on Q'a'ta'Orbin. Reference attached: CERI Quartermaster - requests, received shipments and annotations._

_[Inserted by A. Gyers Stardate 9103.26: Accompanying this report are eleven instances where the information found in Enterprise library did not coincide with the actual information submitted in the original reports.]_

_Personnel reassignments made by CERI headquarters, not requested by Director of CERI Team Q'a'ta'Orbin, were not investigated by either the Federation Inspector General's. The reassignments, both unexpected and unwarranted, undermined the initiative on Q'a'ta'Orbin mandated and approved by the Federation._

_Shortages and loss of personnel began shortly after submission of initial discovery and dissemination of information to Federation Science Bureau regarding discovery of the aforementioned organisms._

_The arrival of Doctor A. Seren as replacement for Doctor C. Chapel occurred shortly after reports submitted regarding discovery of the aforementioned organism in the brain of the indigenous child, T'kp. _

_The child, T'kp disappeared three months ago. Investigation and searches have revealed no trace. It has been suggested that she returned to the Edgers on the island. Note that her disappearance occurred three months after the arrival of Doctor A. Seren. _

_T'kp was not among the Edgers evacuated from the island and now being treated by the CERI team. Enterprise arrived with two Assistant Inspector Generals, one of which is notably opposed to the CERI mission on Q'a'ta'Orbin and the efficacy of Starfleet in general. Romulan Birds of Prey arrived in force four days ago resulting in a new release of Zebov-Torbin on the island. Doctor A. Seren died, also as a result of Zebov-Torbin, the method of introduction to his system being a medical patch. _

_**Deduction by Hierarchy**__:_

_Quantum vibrations in microtubules, linked to near death experience and other out-of-body phenomena, are common to all sentient species, no matter their brain physiology or molecular basis of the lifeform. Originally thought to be the derivation of consciousness, it has been theorized that the quantum vibrations connect the individual brain to a universal consciousness, although we have still not found a way to tap into that consciousness. _

_We now know that quantum information can be transferred by the use of phonons on quantum networks. The network involved here is conjectured to be the connectivity of, and to, the universal consciousness through an organism attached to the brain. _

_The legend of the Q'e appears to have a direct relationship to both the island and the ninety five to ninety eight year old remains of organisms found beneath Lake A'bn._

_A viable, living organism of identical composition to those found beneath the lake was discovered attached to microtubules in the brain of an Edger-Torbin (inhabitants of subject island) child. The child who carried that organism is missing._

_The organisms are the origin and embodiment of the Q'e legend._

_After raping the planet of nearly every valuable commodity except the remaining indigenous population, then abandoning it, the Romulans returned in force for reasons that are suspect (the theory that mining for Beresium not withstanding)._

_Efforts to alert the IG office, as well as Starfleet Command, were ignored or were met with either derision or veiled threats of reprisal. The CERI initiative on Q'a'ta'Orbin has been systematically undermined by the office of the Inspector General._

_The removal of Doctor C. Chapel as director of CERI initiative and replacement by Doctor A. Seren was a direct mandate from the office of the Inspector General._

_**Conclusion**__:_

_The Romulans returned for the Q'e with the possible assistance of Doctor Abel Seren and/or an individual, or individuals, within the CERI Quartermaster's office, the office of the Federation Inspector General, and possibly Starfleet Command._

* * *

At one point, while she waited, Allie wondered if Christine had made an error in judgement sharing their suspicions with Spock. She had served with him, with them both, on Enterprise as ship's historian for a total of five years and had seen first-hand the oft-strained interaction between Christine and their half-Vulcan, half-Human first officer.

Allie watched Spock as he read the indictment and she swore the air in the room became so still that she should be able to hear a feather hit the deck. The silence was staggering. Spock had not moved. He barely breathed. The intensity with which he concentrated on the desktop, his hands spread out on the table, without moving, was unnerving.

She didn't know him as well as the others, but he had certain innate habits from which she had rarely, if ever, seen him stray. But this. This Spock was rigid. She might even say – distressed.

After twenty or so minutes of this intensity, he looked over at her, his forehead deeply creased.

"Captain Spock, are you alright?"

"I am...beginning to understand," he said in a pensive, thoughtful voice.

"Understand what?" she asked, wary of his reaction. Then, she watched as his demeanor change and he returned to the Spock with which she was familiar. _The thought occurred to her that she might be reading too much into it._

"Little of this information was included in any of the reports that were made available to me."

"No," she said. "Only the initial discovery of the dead organisms...and some early references to the Q'e which I believe you brought up at the meet and greet. We didn't have any idea of their true nature until later."

"Was Doctor Seren aware of your suspicions?"

"Neither of us confronted him directly. But neither of us trusted him either. We began to notice a pattern before he arrived. It just became more pronounced and obvious after he assumed the role as director."

"These are serious charges, Doctor Gyers," he said as the holographic cylinder rotated again to reveal the intricacy of the script.

"They are serious offenses, Captain Spock."

"The implication is tantamount to treason. Just as withholding the information may be considered, for both you and Doctor Chapel."

"I know what the implications are. And we're both ready to be accountable...But to be accountable, one must be charged. I submit that this will never happen. Either she or I, or both of us, might disappear before that occurs."

**Old Romulan Barracks – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Leeza Bridges had been in the tiny lab at the back of the barracks for over an hour conducting her blood tests and what scans could achieved with the rudimentary equipment available in the field.

Christine pulled herself together, and, bowing to her nurse's obviously less compromised judgement, hooked herself up to the O2 unit. A shadowy thought crossed her mind about what the tests would reveal. Fractal images of other existences flashed across her mind's eye, like a form of hallucinatory palinopsia. As if she remembered the essence of memories that were hers, but not hers. Details eluded her. Whether or not they were her own or those of someone else, she could not discern. Just when some order to the images appeared to be within reach, the cohesion would vaporize like the fog of the shroud hitting the warm air over the lake.

Regardless of what had caused the episodes she had now experienced twice, and with increasing severity, her oxygen level _was_ low, and the events of the past days had interrupted Seren's original regimen of a second eight hours of hyperbaric treatment. Despite her protests to the contrary, she might have benefited from another session in 'the tank.'

While her blood was reoxygenating, she placed the tube and the artifact in the conservation chamber and attempted to reach a light meditative state. At least, as much as she could manage without zoning out altogether or sinking into thoughts of the one who had taught her the technique. _Allie will have given him the report by now._

Her SpO2 level had risen to 97 percent when Inspector Maalouf intruded. The access doors had failed to function properly long ago between Barracks One through Four. The malfunction played havoc with their ability to maintain sterile fields...something else that needed to be added to Ensign Vasquez's list. When Inspector Maalouf stormed through the open passageway, Christine pulled the anachronistic apparatus from her face and expelled an undisguised breath of exasperation.

"Commander Chapel," Maalouf disgorged. "Now that the immediate threat of a resurgence of the virus has passed...and...young Mr. Bingham is out of danger, I must demand that you make yourself available so that I can make my assessment."

"Assessment," Christine said, with a cynical smile. "Assessment...Would that be of the level of my competency or the level of my cooperation in the dismantling of my credibility?"

Just as Maalouf was spewing, "I find your attitude quite offensive, Commander," Ensign Tove passed through the open doorway followed closely by Ensign Parva and Captain Kirk.

"Oh, thank goodness," Christine retorted in mock relief at the inspector. "I thought I had lost my edge."

Kirk tilted his head back, rolled his eyes and mumbled a borrowed phrase from Doctor McCoy about saints and preservation.


	13. Silence, like a cancer, grows

**A/N: _The following chapter was supposed to be part of a much longer chapter including additional scenes, but I decided they needed to be split up. I may release another chapter this afternoon if I can get it polished enough, but definitely within the next couple of days. After the next chapter, the story will enter the latter part of it's second act._**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: **_**Silence, like a cancer, grows...**_

**CERI Headquarters – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

McCoy stared at the viewscreen with bloodshot eyes that sported bags under the bags. He had not slept more than three hours in the last twenty. Though he knew the prolonged sleep deprivation would eventually take its toll on his psychological, as well as physical health, he resisted the temptation to go back to the bunk and get a few extra winks before continuing.

On the other hand, _Susan Nuress_, he noted, _looked as if she could go another ten or twenty hours with no problem at all_. She seemed to have the stamina of a Vulcan. Probably the fresh air, even if it was thin, and the invigoration of field work. Christine appeared healthy and fit as well, despite what he had told her. He was getting lazy and lethargic living in an artificial environment and only had the call of the gym, which he rarely answered, to count on for exercise. He never minded dishing out the advice to his captain, but rarely felt the necessity of taking it himself - and he would never admit it was age creeping up on him.

He missed her. That was all there was to it. He tried not to, but he did. And what was going on now weighed on him to the point he was afraid he would push Spock too far and by doing so, break something he might never be able to fix. It was a tedious balancing act – keeping Spock honest with himself. Thing was, he also loved that green blooded hobgoblin and, more often than not, felt torn between loyalties. Though he had not been totally silent, he had held his tongue more times than he could count over the eleven years between her leaving Enterprise for a posting on the Bradley the first time and her rejecting a place on Enterprise in favor of a posting on the Bradley the second time. He had thought he was _over it_.

Spock's attitude, or lack thereof, irked him even more of late, with his refusal to acknowledge any empathy for Christine. Aside from giving Spock the ultimate gift of his biological freedom, as if that was not enough, she had, quite literally, saved his neck a few times. Vulcan or not, Spock should, at the very least, acknowledge that. But he was totally silent, infuriatingly stoic, with unmitigated detachment. He might understand the detachment if Spock's memory was still fractured. But, by all accounts, and his own observations as the one responsible for assessing the crew's psychological as well as physical health, Spock remembered everything, even small details they had forgotten.

McCoy had never understood how Christine could have been so devoted to him when she was treated the way Spock treated her. Then, he remembered all the times he had wondered if there was more to their interaction (he never thought of it as a 'relationship') than met the eye. If Spock was fully Human, McCoy would have even described him, on rare occasions, as being tender toward her - in the past. He sometimes entertained the thought that Jim was right all along and there had been _something_ between them. But then he always corrected himself. Spock had been enjoying the taste of his cake and having it too back then – keeping her always at a respectable distance and simultaneously throwing her a bone now and again to keep her within his orbit. So whatever it was, it was not what he would consider a healthy relationship.

Leonard McCoy was a man of multiple contrasting rhythms. Even though he had secretly been relieved that Christine had found the wherewithal to leave in the first place. His thoughts traveled back to five years earlier, after they had been exonerated at the court martial.

* * *

_~2286~_

_Jim had given up too easily. So, he cornered her in her office as she was packing up the last vestige of her occupancy of the space. She was posted to the Ruby G. Bradley and would be back out on the frontier, doing what she loved – he knew that. It was a lot to ask of her. It would mean having to be so close again to something that would lead nowhere. _

_It started with an offer. She could change her assignment, Jim could arrange it – he had enough clout for that, saving the planet an all. "That might not be true in a month," he had pleaded, "but right now, doors, at least the kind of doors that having you reassigned would take, are open to him."_

_Even though he realized he was asking her to take a pig in a poke along with the rest of them, he hammered the nail for nearly an hour. His old routine was not working – she knew all the moves, all the ploys, all the lines. He used to be able to charm her with more ease. When he saw it was not getting him anywhere, he finally threw up his hands in frustration and pulled out the only card he had left._

"_Christine, why are you still leaving? Spock needs you. He needs all of us."_

"_Think what you will, Len. My plans were made months ago. I am leaving on the Bradley tomorrow."_

"_But you are a part of what he was. You helped to shape what he was, can't you see that?"_

"'_Was' being the operative word here."_

"_I can't believe I'm hearing this...from you...the woman who gave up everything she knew, worked for, to find Roger Korby. You crossed a galaxy to find him...but you won't simply change postings to do the same for Spock? You did love him – once upon a time. I couldn't be wrong about that."_

"_I can't..." __The look on her face almost crushed him. "__I won't do this again," she said.__ The moisture forming in her azure blue eyes pierced him like a Cremorian Arrow._

"_I'm sorry, that was a cheap shot," he said. Now, he was angry, at himself. _

"_You're right," she said, donning her characteristic Christine Chapel pout, the one she knew still affected him. "I gave up everything for Roger, and we both know how that turned out."_

"_It's not the same," he entreated, more to convince himself._

"_Isn't it?"_

_It was not what she said, but how she said it that did him in. She had summoned the persona of the friend he would protect with his life if need be - vulnerable, breakable. _

"_I'm sorry, Christine. Life owes you more than this." _

"_Be well," she whispered, in a voice full of pain that cut him like a knife. "I will miss you all." _

_She stroked his cheek and gave him a half smile, then turned and with her antique Grey's Anatomy tucked under her arm, walked deliberately down the seemingly endless hallway, out of the building and out of sight. He was still standing there in the hallway with people walking past him, greeting him, thanking him. He halfheartedly greeted them back, but never stopped staring at the strip of empty space she had left in her wake._

_From behind him he heard Kirk's voice, "Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell."_

_Jim must have read his mind._

* * *

A/N: "_Silence, like a cancer, grows..." – The Sounds of Silence, _Simon and Garfunkel

_~and~_

"_My life closed twice before its close" _by Emily Dickenson

_My life closed twice before its close—  
It yet remains to see  
If Immortality unveil  
A third event to me_

_So huge, so hopeless to conceive  
As these that twice befell.  
Parting is all we know of heaven,  
And all we need of hell._


	14. Silence, like a cancer grows(Part 2)

**A/N: **_**I left these five important paragraphs off the last chapter. Not sure what I was thinking. So, I decided to make it a stand-alone chapter while I polish the next longer one.**_

**Chapter Fourteen: **_**Silence, like a cancer, grows...(Part 2)**_

Two months ago, reacting to ever-present and unavoidable scuttlebutt, McCoy had gone through the excruciating process of contacting Christine, trying again to talk her into leaving Q'a'ta'Orbin. This was _not_ what the initiative was about. It was not what she came out here to do. As much as he tried to resist giving in to paranoia, he believed in his gut there was something out here that was trying to destroy her. Something or someone.

He had given up trying to get her back to Enterprise. Now, he just wanted her off this planet - but she had shut him down cold. _As it turned out, _he thought_, he was right to be concerned._

Before he could sink further into a self-indulgent pity party, Susan Nuress, who had been quietly leaving him to his own review, approached him with a padd in her grip.

"Take a look at this, Leonard."

Reading the look on her face, he eyed her with some trepidation while he took the padd from her. As he read, his face took on the same _'something is rotten in the state of Denmark' _expression.


	15. Sting like a bee

**A/N: **_**For readers who have read Chapter Twelve (Of dreams and dreamers),**__**I have found a 'canon' error that refers to the reassignment of personnel directly by Shani Maalouf, who is the Federation's Assistant Inspector General**__. The Federation Inspector General's office investigates and examines the actions of government agencies of the Federation, including Starfleet, for "misconduct, fraud, or criminal activity by individuals in public service" (according to Memory Alpha). Although I believe I am within bounds of canon regarding the presence of Inspector Maalouf and her 'inspection,' __**I have revised a portion of the report that Chapel sent to Spock, via Alisa Gyers, to read as the following (under the heading 'Other Facts in Evidence')**_

_Complaints regarding personnel reassignments made by CERI headquarters, not requested by Director of CERI Team Q'a'ta'Orbin, were not investigated by either the Federation Inspector General's. The reassignments, both unexpected and unwarranted, undermined the initiative on Q'a'ta'Orbin which was mandated and approved by the Federation._

_Shortages and loss of personnel began shortly after submission of initial discovery and dissemination of information to __Federation Science Bureau__ regarding discovery of the aforementioned organisms._

_The arrival of Doctor A. Seren as replacement for Doctor C. Chapel occurred shortly after reports submitted regarding discovery of the aforementioned organism in the brain of the indigenous child, T'kp._

_The child, T'kp disappeared three months ago. Investigation and searches have revealed no trace. It has been suggested that she returned to the Edgers on the island. Note that her disappearance occurred three months after the arrival of Doctor A. Seren._

_T'kp was not among the Edgers evacuated from the island and now being treated by the CERI team. Enterprise arrived with two Assistant Inspector Generals, one of which is notably opposed to the CERI mission on Q'a'ta'Orbin and the efficacy of Starfleet in general. Romulan Birds of Prey arrived in force four days ago resulting in a new release of Zebov-Torbin on the island. Doctor A. Seren died, also as a result of Zebov-Torbin, the method of introduction to his system being a medical patch._

_**Conclusion**__:_

_The Romulans returned for the Q'e with the possible assistance of Doctor Abel Seren and/or an individual or individuals within the CERI Quartermaster's office, the office of the Federation Inspector General, and possibly Starfleet Command.  
_

_**Corresponding correction has also been made in Chapter Nine. And an error in timing has been corrected regarding the death of the organisms in the caverns beneath Lake A'bn: **_

_Preliminary autopsy of organisms, nuclear decay of hydrofluoric acid residue, and carbon dating of basaltic deposits to which deceased cells were attached indicate death occurred __**between **__**three and five years**__ prior to discovery and testing._

_~~~~~  
_**A/N: **_**Sometimes, it is difficult to keep it all straight – thank goodness for index cards!**_

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen:**_** ...Sting like a bee**_

_Previously (from Chapter Twelve):_

_Just as Maalouf was spewing, "I find your attitude quite offensive, Commander," Ensign Tove passed through the open doorway followed closely by Ensign Parva and Captain Kirk._

"_Oh, thank goodness," Christine retorted in mock relief at the inspector. "I thought I had lost my edge."_

_Kirk tilted his head back, rolled his eyes and mumbled a borrowed phrase from Doctor McCoy about saints and preservation._

**Old Romulan Barracks – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Assistant Inspector General Shani Maalouf stood with her arms folded in nothing less than a combative posture and a hard stare. Every muscle in her small frame was rigid.

As Ensign Vasquez entered the room from the corridor, and Leeza Bridges entered from the direction of the aft lab, Christine folded her own arms in response, prompting Jim Kirk to put himself, physically, between them. He faced Christine, understanding from long, hard won experience that she was about to step in something – like a mine field.

_She had crossed a dessert to carry three children to safety after a shuttle crash had left them stranded and had effectively traded her lungs to save a Denebian crewman on the Bradley who would have lost his life without her. Once she was committed and was not likely to back down._

Still standing between Christine and Maalouf, Kirk wheeled around to Maalouf.

"I think," he said, aware, suddenly, that there was an audience, "we should all take a step back and regain some perspective before somebody says something they are going to regret."

Christine had no illusions to whom Jim had directed the comment and would later lament that in her state of exhaustion and her newly realized suspicions about AIG Maalouf, she had allowed emotion, and her own rage, to precipitate what was about to happen.

"You are quite correct, Captain," Christine said. "This is better left to another time. I am not going to debate you, Inspector. This is neither the time nor place for that." She directed her attention to Jim Kirk. "Captain, I am surrendering myself to you. The charges, I believe, in addition to subordination, will be smuggling."

Finding her center, she tried to calm her voice and queried Maalouf, "Is that correct, Inspector?"

Feeling much like a referee in a tennis match, Kirk had returned his attention to Christine. Perplexed by how quickly the situation had escalated, he mouthed, _'What the hell are you doing?' _

"I've lost this battle, Jim," she said, quietly and with the calm of the condemned. "I don't want to lose the war."

"I am not here to level charges, Commander. That is not my objective. I am only here to assess."

"Right," Kirk said, unable to resist, and remembering what Inspector Maalouf had said to him in the briefing room. _[_"_I must insist on completing my mission to prove that this relief initiative is nothing more than a subversion of the Prime Directive and to see that Doctor Chapel is no longer allowed to perpetrate any further unrestrained interference in the natural development of this planet."]_

"Are you unwilling to cooperate with our assessment, Commander?" Maalouf's arms were still folded in challenge while Christine had tried to relax her own posture.

"You keep referring to it an assessment when you mean inquisition. Yes, I am unwilling to cooperate – here. So, you can add that to any other charges. I am a Starfleet officer and once I surrender myself to a _Starfleet_ officer, the Inspector General's office has no immediate authority. I will answer the charges, but only before a hearing, court martial, or whatever _Starfleet_ deems appropriate."

"I'm sure you mean where you can be protected by Ambassador Sarek."

Kirk did not notice Christine stiffen or hear her sudden intake of air.

"Inspector, Commander Chapel is quite right." Kirk said, still reeling from Christine's admission and struggling with how, or why, the Vulcan Ambassador would figure into this scenario. He took a few seconds to digest the information.

"She is under Starfleet authority," he said, calmly. "Once Starfleet has made its evaluation, the Inspector General's office will have full access to her. But for now, she is under _my_ protection. And Ambassador Sarek has no authority in Starfleet matters."

"Does he not, Captain?" Maalouf asked, with the hint of a scoffing smile. "Are you aware that it was Ambassador Sarek who convinced the admiralty to send the Enterprise to carry out this..._assessment_?"

"Where do you get your information, Inspector?" He was not aware of that particular fact, or if it was 'a fact,' but was not about to give Inspector Maalouf any satisfaction.

"Jim, stop," Christine entreated, her voice barely audible as she caught her breath. She wanted to clutch his arm to give him a tactile warning but he was just out of reach.

But Kirk was on a roll. He was not crazy about Maalouf and she had been making veiled innuendos through the whole of the journey.

"The Inspector General's office is charged with investigation of acts that are detrimental to the Federation. We know many things."

"Detrimental? By whose standards?"

"Captain, I believe you are attempting to make my point for me. There are forces that are attempting to subvert our inquiry into the mishandling of the initiative on Q'a'ta'Orbin and you are apparently another of the pawns in the game."

"I am the reason we are here in the first place," Maalouf continued, with a pinched gaze. "I and my _assessment_ team. The Enterprise is extraneous, simply a means of transportation and has no authority over an investigation being undertaken by the office of..."

"Jim, for God's sake, please stop," Christine whispered. Having made the short distance between them, she grasped his lower left arm and squeezed gently. He noticed but forged on – something he would later regret.

"Inspector, I think you should return to the quarters you were provided for the time being while I speak to Doctor Chapel," Kirk said. "Ensign Parva. Ensign Tove. Please escort AIG Maalouf to the billet and make sure she stays there...for her own protection. It will be raining torrents soon and there are no accommodations for her here."

As Parva made the attempt to remove her physically from the room, Maalouf sloughed off her grip and lashed out at Christine.

"What hold do you have on the Vulcan Ambassador that would prompt interference such as this? Did you black mail him?"

"Inspector Maalouf, **that is quite enough!**" Kirk demanded. His voice boomed loud enough to be heard in Barracks Two as he understood too late why Christine had asked him to stop.

Inspector Maalouf rose to her full height of five feet, and with a look of triumph on her face, asked, "Did you promise to stop sleeping with his son?"

* * *

Sound was suddenly sucked from the room, leaving a silence so dense that it could only have been cut with a Romulan laser drill. Stunned, Kirk had the slow-motion realization that Ensigns Parva and Tove were conveying Inspector Maalouf out of the room while the episode had left both Ensign Vasquez and Nurse Lieutenant Bridges dumbfounded. He only got a glimpse of Christine's tall frame disappearing around a corner.

In the vast complex that Romulan miners had abandoned three and a half years earlier, Barracks One, on the east end of the seven-building array, was utilized exclusively by CERI personnel while in the field. There were no accommodations for sleeping. Personnel slept amongst and in the same types of dwellings as the indigenous - not always an easy thing. Those new to life on the frontier had found becoming acclimated to be a challenge. But none had quit. Even those who had been 'procured' for reassignment had not gone willingly.

The forward section of Barracks One included a small office, to which Christine had taken refuge, a meeting room, where the whole sordid scene had played out, and a small treatment room with a lavatory where Leeza had treated her forehead abrasion days ago.

Christine seethed inwardly. She had felt in her gut that it would come to something like this, no matter what she did to prevent it or how much she tried to avoid it. It was the reason she had begged Sarek to back off. He had only done so when, in desperation, she had appealed to Amanda.

While she sat, motionless, in the desk chair onto which she had slumped, with her hands limply fallen into her lap she sensed Jim's silent presence behind her, thinking that his body language was nearly as stealthy as Spock's.


	16. The fishbowl returneth

**A/N:** _**I HAVE RELEASED TWO CHAPTERS TODAY**_** – Chapter 15 (**_**Sting like a bee**_**) and Chapter 16 (**_**The fishbowl returneth**_**). This chapter will not make sense if Chapter 15 is not read first.**

_Also, some of the references in this chapter refer to 'The Vow' and 'Paradise Lost" which are 2 and 2a respectively in the Magnificent Obsession Series. It is not absolutely necessary to read these two stories to understand the references here. However, they are fairly short reads and will both give the reader backstory for context and more perspective._

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: **_**The fishbowl returneth**_

The single portal type window in the office showed a view of the green-gray clouds that seemed close enough to touch. Rain had not yet reached the plateau but would be upon the barracks complex, and the summer encampment, within the next several hours. Then, it would be a never ceasing onslaught for several days while it barreled its way towards the dust storm raging from the opposite direction on the western plain. Like the scorched Desierto de Atacama, the arid wasteland that Romulan orbital drilling had left in its relentless orbital drilling had become a dead zone, sterile and unforgiving; like most of the rest of the planet; the new normal since nearly half-way through the ninety six years of Romulan mining began.

Kirk sat in the chair directly across from Christine, a friend of many years, for a full ten minutes before he spoke. It did not look like _she_ was going to initiate any conversation.

"Chris. I'm so sorry."

She saw the uncertainty, and remorse, on Jim's face and contemplated maintaining the same silence she had asked of Spock more than six years ago.

_But what did it matter, now? Releasing Spock from his vow would be the least of their concerns and do neither of them any good. Except possibly to allow him to accept the inevitable. Now it was a matter of embroiling Sarek and the Vulcan High council in the backlash that was likely to happen. Between the rogue commander of the Seleya and Sybok, they had had enough to deal with. Spock would have to know; would have to be warned. Who better to do it than Jim Kirk?_

"It isn't your fault, Jim. This is my fault. My responsibility," she said and quietly to herself, _'a prison of my own making...'_

"How do you figure that?"

_If she had only accepted Spock's marriage proposal, none of this would be happening. She would have been able to take on the forces bent on destroying Q'a'ta'Orbin long ago. She had told Spock she was a coward, and this proved it. All she had left was the memory. Hers and hers alone and her greatest fear now was not simply that she had failed him, and his family, but that the memory of the year they had been together would be forever scarred – smeared with innuendo, twisted with lies, and open to derision. Any privacy they had was about to vanish._

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Because I didn't say yes."

Jim started to ask, 'to what?' but somehow, he knew the answer. He had not even considered that it was not true. The picture fell into place, like a puzzle assembling itself, all the pieces were there, they had only needed context.

"If it was just us...If he was _anyone_ else..." she said, and her voice trailed off.

"But he _isn't_ anyone else."

"No...He is not," she lamented. "He _is_ who he _is_, and now Sarek's ethics will be called into question and this is going to be..."

"...a shitstorm," Jim finished for her.

'_I could not have put it better,'_ she thought.

"They will try to make it one, Inspector Maalouf and her ilk." She shook her head sadly.

"Well, it's not the first time Sarek's had to weather some kind of scrutiny from Vulcan and the Federation at large. I'm sure he _and_ Vulcan will survive."

"_They_ will survive. But what about Spock's relationship with Vulcan? This is because of me. Because I was so desperate to get to the bottom of what was going on that I appealed to Sarek. That's on me as well. I understood too late the lengths to which some would go to grab this planet and the secrets it holds. Jim, Q'a'ta'Orbin is up for sale – to the highest bidder, or the most ruthless. And different factions have already put in their bids. It is not as if I even know who _they_ are."

"What are you talking about? We've had no intelligence reports to indicate..."

No," she interrupted, "and you won't find any. We reported the shortages, protested the reassignments to no avail. Reports either simply disappeared or they've been extracted or redacted to reflect whatever the powers that be, and I'm including Starfleet Command, want known."

"Conspiracy theories, Christine?"

"Fact, Jim. Once I explain to you the correlations we've put together, you'll understand too." Christine rose and walked toward the decontamination chamber. "Come with me."

The small decontamination room separated the forward and aft sections to maintain a sterile environment for supplies and the laboratory. Both lay behind a hermetically sealed entryway. Only a few sealed packages of disposable protective coveralls lay on the shelves to the right of the decontamination chamber, as that particular item had been the first to go missing from requested supplies. Three reusable hazmat suits hung on hooks to the left.

"The goal is not to protect the CERI personnel but to protect the supplies from contamination," she said as she handed Kirk one of the suits and took one for herself. "Put this on."

Once they had both suited up, she picked up a padd and they entered the decontamination chamber. Once decontaminated, Christine keyed in the code to unlock the entry to the supply storage area where Jim Kirk was greeted by nearly bare shelves.

Handing him the padd, she said, "The first report tracks the supplies that were ordered, what their essential function is and cross references it with the actual shipments we received with copies of the revised orders attached.

"The shipments weren't just shorted...they were revised...?"

"To reflect what was received. Yes."

"How long has this been going on, and why are we just hearing about it now?"

"That," she said, "is a good question. Our _theory_ is in the second report. Allie Gyers has already shown it to Spock. I had planned to share it with you at the same time, until Inspector Maalouf barged in, phasers blazing."

While they toured the large area and Kirk witnessed first-hand how bereft the supplies were, while she explained how she had _procured_ the most essential over the past year and a half, he read the report she had sent to Spock.

"The justification," she said when he had finished and looked up from the padd, "according to Abel, was that the mitigation of the Ebola virus had been accomplished and no trace of it had been found on Q'a'ta'Orbin. Since this had been ahead of predicted timeline, the CERI mission was no longer an 'emergency' and therefore, he had been sent to phase it out. And we both now know the truth of that rationale."

"You're implying that Doctor Seren was duplicitous. I thought he was a friend."

"Abel was...someone I served with. Intuitively, I knew there was always something not right about him...I wanted very much to be wrong. When he was infected, I thought maybe I _was_ wrong."

* * *

As they discarded the hazmat suits and Christine was hanging hers up, she froze. Her heartbeat became rapid and she had to hold on to the suit for balance. Her breathing became labored and she struggled to hold on to reality.

"Chris, are you alright?"

"I...I'm okay. I'm sure it's just low oxygen on top of fatigue."

He reached out to help steady her, but she resisted and straightened. "I'm okay, really, Jim."

"We can postpone the meeting at the elder camp. You can get some shut-eye."

"No, that isn't necessary," she said. "Nurse Bridges is waiting for me with some lab results, and then I can get another O2 treatment. I'll be at the enclave in time to meet with the elders."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," she said, and then asked, "Will you talk to Spock? Tell him...?"

With his hand on the back of his neck, he nodded his head and tried to rub out the tension headache he had acquired.

"Yeah, I'll do it." Although he was not at all sure how he would approach the subject.

"When you do...tell him...I release him on the first condition. He will understand."

* * *

When Jim Kirk entered the meeting room to find Ensign Vasquez, obviously waiting for direction, and Nurse Lieutenant Bridges with a grim look on her face he took to mean something else.

Understanding that he probably didn't have to say anything to Nurse Bridges, he asked Ensign Vasquez, "What you heard..."

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Captain."

Leeza concurred without verbal comment and gained some respect for Vasquez in the process.


	17. Out of the frying pan

**A/N: This will be the last chapter posted for awhile (not sure how long 'awhile' is going to be). My other fanfic story has been waiting for a month to be fed. Thanks for sticking with the story, **_**"I'll be back."**_

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: **_**Out of the frying pan...**_

**Old Romulan Barracks One – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

Leeza's face was still grim when she handed Christine the results of her blood work.

"CBC, Protrhombin, Liver, Lipid, CMP, TSH, Catecholamine test – high levels of dopamine and norepinephrine," she said.

"Like Teacup?"

"Yes, only yours are not as stable. There's a fluctuation from one sample to the next taken seconds apart. Maybe we should test again?"

"I doubt we would get any different result but you can take another three vials..." Christine said, reacting to Leeza'a frown with a tilt of her head, the hint of an accepting smile. She handed the padd back to Leeza, "and then, send what you have to Nuress. Tell her she is free to share everything with Doctor McCoy."

Leeza stood with her hands still clutching the padd in a death grip.

"Everything?" Leeza asked.

"_Everything_," Christine answered, and, picking up the padd she had given to Jim Kirk, swiped the reports over to Leeza's padd. "I've already informed Captain Kirk. Captain Spock knows as well. When I leave Q'a'ta'Orbin..."

"Chris..."

Christine held up her hand. "We both knew it might come to this."

"Can I at least tell them it was Doctor Seren who falsified your results?"

"We don't know that for certain, only that someone did."

"Someone? He had to have known. He did the tests himself. Why are you still trying to pretend that the jealous son of a bitch was not out to destroy you...and Captain S...?"

"Stop," Christine interrupted her. "You are traveling outside the bounds of our friendship as well as chain of command."

"Don't you dare pull rank on me. We've been through too much together. I'll take my chances of being charged with insubordination! This is as much my, our fight, fight as it is yours. You will leave, but the rest of us will have to stay here. Have you thought of that?"

Leeza regretted not just the last five words, but the last five minutes. "I'm sorry, of course you have."

Christine had come to understand, long ago, the burdens of command; the people you led into harm's way, those that are left behind, the ones who died under your watch...or because of some personal quest...

"I am trying to be objective, Leeza. As much as I admit that he must have known and hid the results, I can't assign motivation. At least not until we can mount a full investigation."

"Because you've already done enough damage by being silent all this time?"

"Lieutenant Bridges!" Christine said and watched Leeza's whole countenance defiantly brace for impact. She calmed herself and then continued with a sympathetic tone in her voice. "You are the best nurse I have ever had, and one of the best friends. But you are also a Starfleet officer. And you're right. Your duty...your duty is for you to decide. In this case, I can't decide it for you or dictate it to you. I don't have that authority anymore. I was effectively relieved from that particular responsibility when I surrendered myself to Captain Kirk. I understand full well that I am leaving you, and the rest of the team, what's left of it, to face it on your own. But I promise you, I will do whatever is within my power to protect this team, and the Torbin." She was holding Leeza by the arms before she finished, trying to convey as much assurance as possible.

* * *

Christine left the aft lab in Barracks One where Leeza had syphoned off another three vials of her blood.

Another test would not make a difference, only give Leeza something on which to focus. At least, now she knew she had been infected with the organism – she did not require a brain scan to confirm it – that would come later when they could return to HQ, or more likely the Enterprise, where Maalouf would insist she be thrown in the brig.

All that would have to wait. It had started to drizzle outside. Jim had updated her on their concerns about the biofilters; that they had been disassembled and were being analyzed _"piece by 'bloody' piece."_ The magnetic fields were too dangerous for transporters, with or without biofilters, even if they relaxed the decontamination guidelines. That was a last resort strategy.

The shuttles were back at HQ and they could not bring them into this jungle of twisted magnetic fields. They were going to be forced to ride out the rain, with the promise of some long, long days ahead.

**Torbin Summer Encampment – Q'a'ta'Orbin**

The lone figure of Doctor Christine Chapel stood at the edge of the cliff overhanging the lake and its vermillion sanded shoreline scattered with remnants of the winter habitat of the Torbin fisher clan. The beach was already disappearing and the land bridge to the island, still visible, was approximately three feet underwater.

She shuddered, not from the wind that buffeted her, but from the water at the lake's edge that had turned a reddish hue where the deposits of cinnabrin* had been recaptured by the water's rise over the beach.

Before leaving the old Romulan barracks, she had changed into garments appropriate for meeting with the elders; a yellow kurti that hung to her calves, over leggings with simple, soft, pull-on moccasin type footwear. The kurti was unbelted and hung loosely on her. Over that, she wore her hooded cloak. The wind caught the hood and it fell down her back, making her unbraided hair fly wildly around her face.

Standing on the precipice, she was struck with a pain, the searing pain she had experienced before, but different this time. She had not blacked out, had not felt other memories. She was being drawn to the island. When she reached the trail head, she spotted a figure on the shoreline of the island side. She was nearly a kilometer away but could see that the figure was a child.

_Teacup?_

The pain only eased as she moved down the trail toward the beach, toward the figure of Teacup. Then, before she was aware of where she was or what was happening, she was up to her midsection in water. The land bridge was filling up around her.

She would have no memory of what happened to her after that until the moment when she was pulled out of the blood red waters of the lake.

* * *

A/N: *Cinnabrin is so named as the Torbin equivalent of cinnabar, which is a vein-filling mineral found in a mercury ore and used to make the color vermillion and used in some cosmetics. Although the mercury ore is toxic, even to the Torbin, the deposits of cinnabrin are already eroded from the ore and deposited on the beaches with no ill effects to the Torbin. (I used a _little_ latitude.)


End file.
